


Matchbox

by Tornadic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Giant Gay Nerds, M/M, The Junkers Are Giant Nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tornadic/pseuds/Tornadic
Summary: “Lucio?” She knocked on the screen a couple of times, though it had little effect on the quality of the feed.“You’re breaki—“The video cut off. Hana groaned in frustration, though she didn’t make any efforts to get it back. She’d call him again when they landed.She was just about to ask the pilot if everything was alright, when his rough voice sounded through the speaker system. “Ma’am, we’re experiencing some disturbances with the equipment.”Feeling her stomach swell with worry, Hana glanced out the window. There was nothing but desert for miles around — if they crash-landed here there'd be nothing they could do.-//-When internet personality Hana Song's plane crashes in the middle of the desert, she thinks she's as good as dead. However, once she runs into a couple of weird-looking men, things take a turn for the better. Now all she has to do is get home.Pretty much a fic on the origin of D.Va's Junker skin :)





	1. Not All Who Wander

 

Hana Song was never lost. Even as she she stood in the middle of the desert, the baking sun casting its rays directly onto her neck and back and nothing but sand in all directions, she knew exactly where she was going. Sort of.

She couldn’t help but curse herself for not installing a GPS in her mech. Not that it would’ve been very useful; the thing was almost out of gas and the engine was sputtering its way forward, each jolt of energy weaker and more tired than the last. The battery was almost dead too and her screen continued to flash on and off, using its last dying breaths to display a pixilated map that depicted her position in the middle of nowhere. 

The corpse of her previous ride — a two-passenger airplane — exhaled a burst of fire as the left wing gave out under the weight of the rest. Even though her mech had taken her well over a kilometer away from the wreckage, she still felt the heat from the miniature explosion. Yeah, she wasn’t getting anywhere in that thing. She couldn’t use it for gas either, seeing as the tank had blown. 

She was definitely stranded. But she wasn’t lost.

Taking a look at her battery — which was now at 3% — she gave her mech one last boost in no particular direction. After a few metres, the machine powered down with a defeated whirring. It looked pretty dead. 

“Newest model,” she mumbled bitterly to herself, “can withstand anything.”

She’d have to get a new one if she ever found a way home. And she’d just gotten used to this version, too.

Hana stepped out of her mech, taking a glance around her. Somewhere along the beige horizon was a spot of colour. 

Though the waving, heat-tarnished air, she noticed something red. Taking a one last look at her mech, she began walking.

As she approached the spot, it seemed to transform from a incoherent blob of nothing to a flag, much bigger than most flags and complete with an ominous stitching of what Hana could only assume to be a skull and crossbones. It hung loosely against the pole, limp and motionless due to the lack of wind. 

So she’d run into a group of pirates. Great.

She wanted to turn around. Then again, she was too far in now to quit. And she’d have to walk back, all the way her now-broken mech had previously taken her. 

She walked faster and faster until she eventually set into a jog.

It turned out that, below the flag, a small hut lay deserted and deteriorating. It was wooden, though the material was rotten and falling apart. Outside the structure was a motorbike, dark in colour and with a high steer, connected to a yellow side-cart on which someone had painted a messy smiley face. She hesitated in front of the door, taking a moment to listen to the voices on the other side.

“…know how ya found it.”

She heard a grunt, though it could’ve just as easily been a roughly-spoken word.

“Don’ya think we oughta… Y’know… Use it?”

Another grunt.

“I dunno how! That’s your job!”

“…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s aaaaalways my fault!”

Hana heard footsteps approaching the door but, before she could get out of the way, it flung open and she was knocked backwards. She fumbled to grab her gun out of its holster, finally getting a grip and pointing it towards whoever had exited the hut.

In front of her stood a tall man. He carried a type of self-made weapon, which was currently pointed directly at her face. He was covered in soot, his hair grew in patches and he was missing an arm and a leg, each replaced by complex-looking home-made prosthetics. Taken aback by his odd appearance, she forgot that he was a threat and slowly lowered her gun.

He looked just about as confused as her, taking on quick glance at her pink and white body suit before following her lead and lowering his weapon. “Erh, Roadie?”

She heard a defeated sigh from inside the hut.

“Roadie!” The man repeated, clearing his throat.

The door opened again, this time revealing what had to be the biggest man Hana had ever seen. He was dressed like something out of a video game, or those old Mad Max films Hana’s dads would watch with her when she was younger. The first thing she noticed was his mask, which bore a faint resemblance to a pig’s face and hid his expressions well enough to leave Hana completely in the dark as to whether or not he was about to kill her. The second thing was the giant tattoo of an engine and the words ‘wild hog power’ written across his stomach. She could’ve sworn she recognized him from somewhere. Of course, that was virtually impossible. 

“Hey,” he said, voice muffled by the mask.

The other man raised his eyebrows, as though he was expecting more from his friend. “That’s all you got? Hey?”

He nodded once, then turned around and walked back inside the hut.

“What if she’s dangerous? Could be a spy!” He gestured violently towards Hana, who felt at a loss for words.

“Ask,” a booming voice sounded from behind the closed door.

The tall man looked down, properly acknowledging Hana as a human being for the first time since they’d met. “You spying on us?”

“Why would I wanna do that?” She crossed her arms. They didn’t exactly seem worthy of spying on. In fact, they hardly even seemed worthy of a conversation.

“‘Cause of the treasure!” The man blurted, only to clasp both hands over his mouth once the words were out. “I mean, y’know… Roadie, little help?”

The other man, — Roadie, Hana figured — seemed done with the situation, and didn’t bother responding anymore.

An engine revved somewhere in the distance, and a cloud of sand and dust formed over the horizon. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, forgetting Hana completely and loading his weapon with a couple of bombs from his pocket. Roadie must’ve heard it too, because he exited the hut with a big bag of something that made a clinging sound as he walked. He loaded the bag onto the bike, though it was too big to fit anywhere but the side cart, which Hana figured was meant for the other guy.

The revving grew louder and the dust cloud closer and the two men shared a quick look before prepping themselves for a good fight.

Hana stood up and raised her gun, though she wasn’t sure how much damage it could really do. Still, she thought, she wasn’t going to run.

There were around five of them, all at least twice her size and four times her strength. Two of them appeared to be girls, though it was hard to tell through the gunfire that soon erupted from the vehicles.

Roadie had a very useful weapon, one that Hana hadn’t noticed until he used flung it at the raiders, pulling one of them from his bike and directly into the barrel of his gun. The younger guy was just as good, firing his bombs in every direction even remotely near the incoming threat. He had a few tricks as well, including a mine he used to knock two raiders off their bikes and face-first into the sand. It didn’t take long before the five of them lay motionless on the ground, their bikes reverted to scrap metal.

The thin man looked satisfied, dusting off his hands. “Done ’n over, eh?” He giggled.

“They’ll have friends. We need to leave,” the big guy grunted, starting up the bike.

“What about the gold? Can’t leave the gold, right?” He laughed nervously, looking at the giant bag next to the hut. “Right?”

“Take the map, leave the gold.”

“But—“

“The map, Jamison.”

He looked like he had more fight left in him, though he kept it to himself. The name ‘Jamison’ must’ve been the tipping point. He pulled a dirty piece of paper from his back pocket, looking at it with disgust as though it had personally offended him.

“What about the girl? Gonna leave her to the raiders?”

“The girl comes with us.”

“Riiiight,” Jamison rolled his eyes, glaring at Hana, “so we can’t bring the treasure, but we’ll fit a full bloody person on there!”

“The girl comes with us,” the big man repeated, his voice stern. Hana was pretty sure he was looking at her, though she couldn’t be certain with the mask covering his face.

Jamison opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by the sound of more distant engines. Grimacing, he got into the side cart, patting the spot next to him for Hana to sit in. Reluctantly, but seeing little else to do, she sat down.

“The girl comes with us,” he mocked, sticking his tongue out at his friend (were they even friends? She couldn’t really tell) as the bike took off.

***

Hana had always been scared of fire, with its uncontrollability and flare for destruction. She always worried she’d forget to turn off her laptop, or leave it near something flammable and come home to see her house in flames. It was a stupid fear, but a fear nevertheless.

Right now, however, as the once-unbearable heat started to fade from the desert air, she’d never loved the sight of glowing, red embers more. 

‘Jamison’ seemed to have a sort of talent for starting fires. He’d engineered his mechanical arm so that a simple snap of his fingers caused a small ignition, a feature Hana was certain he’d made great use of.

They used a couple of newspapers they’d saved in the boot of the motorcycle for fuel.

“So what’d they call you, then?” Jamison sat down on the side of the bonfire — if you could really call it that.

She considered giving them a fake name, but knew her own limits well enough to be sure she’d forget or let her real name slip accidentally. She was too bad of a liar. “Hana Song,” she tried to read the burning newspaper headline, though she only managed to make out the words ‘Heist’ and ‘Masterminds?’

“Jamison Fawkes,” the man smiled proudly. “But my friends call me Junkrat,” he squinted at the flames. “Or they would, anyway.”

 _Junkrat_. She’d definitely heard that somewhere before.

“This here’s Roadhog,” he gestured towards his friend, who was lying a couple of meters away from them, back facing the fire. “He’s a lot friendlier than he seems.”

 _Junkrat and Roadhog_. Yeah, she’d definitely heard those names before.

“You’re…!” Hana stood up, reaching for her gun. “You’re the guys from TV! You robbed a bank!”

“Rude!” Junkrat stood up as well, ready to blow her up if she tried anything. “We blew it up too.”

“You’re criminals!” She looked behind her, considering the possibility of making a run for it. Then again, she thought, where would she go? Plus, up close, these guys didn’t exactly seem like international anarchists. And they’d helped her out back by the hut.

“Beg your pardon, I consider myself a freedom fighter,” Jamison put his hand on his chest in mocked insult, “a misunderstood one.”

“Is that why you had all that gold? You stole it?”

“Stole’s a strong word,” he shrugged, sitting back down and pulling a screwdriver out of his back pocket, before going to work on his peg leg.

She sat back down. “Are you gonna rob me?”

“Of what? Your gun? No thanks, mate, I think we’ll pass.” He leaned back, throwing a quick glance at Roadhog. “We prefer our own stuff.”

Hana’s eyes fell on the giant gun beside the big man. The whole thing was probably about the size of her entire torso. It had a lot of unnecessary details, spikes and that sort of thing, that seemed to serve no purpose to its function.

“Made that meself,” Junkrat said proudly, once he noticing Hana eyeing the weapon. 

“It’s, uh,” she searched her mind for a word that wasn’t ‘terrifying’. “It’s big.”

For some reason, that caused the Junker to laugh. It sounded just like it did on the security-camera footage Hana had seen, only a bit less manic.

Once he got over his little fit, he redirected his attention to the girl. “So what’s your deal, sheila? You a freedom fighter too?”

“I’m D.Va.” She half expected him to recognise the name, though a simple look around reminded her that she was stranded in the middle of nowhere. “I mean, I play video games.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Video games?”

“You know, computer games.”

He still looked confused. “Those electronic thingies with the wires?”

“Yeah.” Did he really not know what a computer was? “I stream and enter tournaments.”

This resonated something within him, because his eyes lit up at the world ‘tournament.’ “We have those in Junkertown! They get these big mechs and pit ‘em against each other until one of ‘em goes down. Lot’a explosions, usually.”

Mech. Hana had almost forgotten about her machine. She figured it’d either been taken apart by those Raiders they’d encountered earlier, or was still out there somewhere.

“I built on of ‘em once. Won a few matches with her too, a real beauty she was.”

Hana couldn’t mask the expression of joy that crept onto her face. “You built one?” She asked expectantly. “You think you could do it again?”

“Ye— I mean, it might take a while and I’d need a lot of different parts and tools and Roadie probably wouldn’t let us stop for long enough to get it finished, and then there’s the trouble with me and things that aren’t s’posed to explode, plus—“

“Could you do it?” Hana interrupted, desperate for an answer to her question.

Junkrat thought about it for a moment, lips pursed and eyes squinted. “Probably,” he finally replied.

This caused the big guy to sit up with a heavy sigh, turning his head to face his partner. “No.”

“Come on, mate. The girl needs us!” He appealed. It was hard to tell whether his begging was doing much, but Hana had a strange feeling that Roadhog wasn’t particularly easy to persuade.

“We get her home,” his voice, though muffled by the mask, echoed through the desert. “That’s it.”

Junkrat waved his hand dismissively, leaning towards Hana. “Don’t worry about him,” he whispered. “Just give me a couple’a days and I’ll convince him.”

Somehow, Hana doubted that.

“I had a mech,” she explained. “It ran out of battery a couple of kilometers from your… house? Maybe we could go back and find it. I’m sure you could rig up a battery, right?”

“Perfect plan!” Junkrat stretched his arms to each side. “Don’t’cha think, Hog?”

Roadhog hesitated, thinking it over. With an affirmative grunt he laid back down in the sand. “We leave tomorrow.”

 


	2. Pay

Junkrat seemed to really enjoy riding the bike. Even with Hana beside him, he whooped and cheered as though it was his first time going at a speed above 50 km/h.

Roadhog seemed to have learnt to tune it out. Hana was pretty sure that Junkrat was the loud type and that in order to survive living with him, you had to be a very patient man.

“Is she big?” The smaller Junker yelled, trying to communicate despite the wind. “Your mech, I mean.”

“Pretty big,” Hana yelled back. “Latest model.”

That made him giggle with excitement.

The ride was shorter than Hana remembered it, and once they reached the hut she pointed in the direction she’d come from the day before. It didn’t take long for her to spot the mech in all it’s pink and blue glory, lying motionless and dirty on the sand. “There it is!” She pointed, though Roadhog had already taken a sharp turn.

Junkrat jumped out of the cart before the motorcycle had stopped, causing him to stumble forwards until he regained his balance. He brushed the sand off the windshield and looked inside. 

“Latest model,” he mumbled, pulling the screwdriver from pocket. Humming some song Hana didn’t recognise, he screwed open a panel, throwing the cover carelessly aside “She’ll be an easy fix.” For a brief moment, he redirected his attention to the girl, before looking back down at the machine. “Just gotta…” He furrowed his eyebrows at a couple of ripped wires within the machinery. “Not good.”

“What is it?”

“Raiders got the engine. And the battery. And every ounce’a liquid in the tank. Fact, I reckon she’s no more than a shell by now. Might not be that easy to get her going after all, then. Well we tried, didn’t we Roadhog?” He stood up and began walking back towards the bike. “Real shame too, could’ve been a great—“

“So you’re giving up? Just because there’s no engine?” Hana felt her face boil. “No way! You’re thieves, aren’t you?”

Junkrat cleared his throat. “Freedom fighters,” he coughed.

“Can’t you just steal an engine? I saw what you did to those Raiders yesterday.”

“‘Preciate the compliment, mate,” Junkrat said, “but what’s in it for us? You gonna give us one’a your ‘video games’?” He said the last two words with suspicion, as though he doubted their existence.

He had a point, though, Hana had to admit. So far they’d been helping her for no apparent reason. They didn’t even know who she was. “I’ll pay you,” she said.

“Pay us, huh?” Junkrat’s eyes widened. He shot a quick look at Roadhog, who gave him a nod. “Alright then.”

As if nothing’d happened, he went on back to the bike and jumped into his seat. “Time to get you home!” He grinned.

***

Hana had never been in a proper tavern before, much less one that was mostly populated by Junkers and criminals. Nor had she ever entered a place with a guy like Roadhog at her side; a big man who attracted a lot of attention.

Junkrat seemed to enjoy it, love it even, and walked proudly through the crowded room to a small booth in the back. 

“We’ll take two of everything!” He gestured at the waitress, who looked at them in confused surprise before scribbling down the order. “I hate this place,” he mumbled, as Hana took a seat beside him. “But we gotta fuel up before we head off to… To…” Junkrat furrowed his eyebrows, looking as though he’d forgotten something important.

“The capital,” Roadhog reminded him.

“Right! The capital! Gotta get to Sydney so we can get you on one’a those plane things.”

Hana had to suppress a sigh at the realization that every Won she owned was on her card, and her card was probably nothing more than a pile of ash now. “I don’t have any money. I can’t buy a ticket,” she admitted.

“Won’t be a problem,” Junkrat reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch, dumping it on the table. “We got you covered.”

A loud crash sounded from outside, hushing the conversations around them. Following the brief moment of silence, an engine revved and some type of alarm went off.

Hana watched as Junkrat sprung out of the booth and dashed towards the exit. Even though she couldn’t see him after the door slammed shut, the loud booms and bangs followed by the Junker’s signature cackling assured her that whatever was happening out there was going in his favour.

It didn’t take long before he reentered the restaurant, covered in soot and blood, eyes gleaming with excitement. “As you were,” he grinned at the bartender as he retook his seat.

“You, uh,” Hana cleared her throat, “you alright?”

Junkrat grabbed a napkin off the table and used it to clean his hands. “Top of the world,” he giggled. “Dipsticks tried t’steal our ride. Made sure they never steal anything ever again.”

“The bike okay?” Roadhog maintained his own version of eye contact with the smaller Junker.

“The bike?” He laughed nervously, wincing as his partner leaned closer across the table. “Right, yeah, the bike. Uh, no. No, the bike’s gone.”

Hana sighed. “You mean you blew up our ride?”

“No!”

She shot him a look, hoping to replicate whatever it was about Roadhog’s silence he found so threatening.

“They got it.” He looked around for a moment. 

“Someone stole our ride!?” Hana ran a hand through her hair. How the hell would they get anywhere without the bike? “You said you got them!”

He opened his mouth to argue, though he interrupted himself before he could start talking. “Most of ‘em,” he finally admitted. “Think about it like this, though.” He smirked as his eyes fell on the back wall, covered in license plates and differently-sized chains. “Looks like we’ll finally get a use outta your mech.”

Hana was about to ask how he intended on fixing it or how Roadhog and himself would benefit from it but, before she had the time, an old, comparatively well-dressed man addressed the bigger Junker. “Two of everything?” He sounded vaguely annoyed, as though he was used to dealing with people who thought they owned the place.

“That’s right!” Junkrat leaned back, both hands behind his head. “Actually, an extra plate of shrimp would be nice.” He looked at Roadhog, who softly shook his head. “No, wait, cancel that. Sorry mate, forgot you don’t like those.”

“And how do you intend to pay for that?” The man, who Hana now realized was the manager of the place, inquired.

“With—“ Junkrat looked at the bag of coins he’d thrown on the table, the ones he’d intended to spend on Hana’s plane ticket, and remembered the gold that’d been stolen along with the bike. “I’ll get back to you on that one?”

The manager sighed, raising his hand and gesturing for a couple of large men to join him. “Escort these idiots outta here,” he commanded.

The men grabbed ahold of Hana and Junkrat first, only to have the Junker resist their grip. “Oi, hands off the merchandise!”

“Listen, buddy, make this easier for both us and get outta the booth,” the shorter of the guards spoke, his tone flat and indifferent.

He reached out again, pulling his hand back as Junkrat sunk his teeth into three of his fingers. “No!” He argued.

“Alright, that’s it.” The guards each pulled a baton, almost simultaneously, holding it at the ready in case of further disobedience. “Get out of the bloody booth and take the girl and your fat friend with you!”

Junkrat’s mildly annoyed expression turned stern. “What’d you call him?” His voice was calmer than Hana had ever heard it, though his face was turning red and his eyes were burning with anger. “Shouldn’t of said that,” he mumbled in a sing-song tone, reaching into his pocket once more and pulling out a pair of pipe bombs. They had little pig faces painted on them, a detail Hana made note to ask about if she ever got the chance.

With a snap of his fingers, Junkrat ignited the fuse, gracefully rolling the bombs across the floor to the middle of the room. A manic grin formed across his lips as he waved the guards goodbye.

The bombs went off with a bang, sending sharp pieces of shrapnel into the mens’ backs and killing them on impact.

Whether by miracle or calculation, Junkrat, Hana and Roadhog remained unscathed, though the same couldn’t be said for a few unfortunate costumers. “We gotta go,” Roadhog grunted, effortlessly lifting Junkrat from his seat and only putting him down once they were outside the restaurant. There, he was quick to spot a rusting car and gesture for his partner to jump-start it.

Hana could tell they’d done this before; Junkrat started the car while Roadhog watched out for anybody particularly brave who thought he could take them on. “Might wanna get in,” the thin man spoke, giggling to himself as the engine turned on.

Hana followed this order, scared to do anything else after what she’d just witnessed.

Roadhog got into the driver’s seat and Junkrat rode shotgun, leaving Hana to sit in the back. 

“Don’t do that again,” the bigger man grumbled, without taking his eyes off the road.

Junkrat, who’d been in the middle of a conversation with himself about the ‘disappointing pipe bombs,’ looked at the driver. “Do what now?”

“You know what.”

“Right. That.” Junkrat frowned, sinking deeper into his seat. “You heard what that fuckface called you. Told ya I wasn’t gonna let that happen again. I’m the only one who gets to call you names. And they were asking for it, anyways.”

Roadhog grunted, ending the conversation.

As soon as they pulled onto the highway, the smaller man turned on the radio, spending a few moments trying to find a station that wasn’t just loud static. “Ugh,” he groaned, as an electronic song came on, “I hate this one.”

Hana smiled at the familiar chords, forgetting where she was for a second. “I know the guy who wrote it,” she admitted absentmindedly. “His name’s Lucio.” A memory came to mind, of the time she’d first met one of her idols, and he’d turned out to be a fan of hers as well. They’d spent a while talking, before eventually deciding to meet up again. And before they knew, the two of them were best friends. She hadn’t had much time to think about him, but the song and the chaos and everything that’d transpired in the past twenty-four hours suddenly made her miss the DJ.

“Well, tell him his song sucks,” Junkrat broke through her trail of thought.

Hana smiled at the idea of telling Lucio about all of this. He was probably wondering where she was — it was unlike her not to text him for more than a couple of hours. But she’d be home again in no time. These people weren’t going to hurt her, at least not while she still had to pay them back. They’d get her back. They had to.


	3. Boom

“—And we’ll have to find a junkyard for all the parts. Is there a junkyard ‘round here? Roadie probably knows, I’ll ask him. Wonder if we’ll have time to stop by that little take-away place, get us some Thai food… I’d kill for some Thai—“

Hana had been waiting for a good time to approach him, but he didn’t seem like he was going to stop talking to himself for a while. So she figured now was as good as ever. “Junkrat?” She tried to catch a glimpse of whatever he was holding. It looked like a sort of bomb, probably the same kind as the one he’d used back at the tavern.

“G’morning, sheila!” He looked up, letting the work in his hands roll into the sand. 

They’d spent another night in the middle of the desert, much to Junkrat’s dismay. He’d argued a bit, though there seemed to be little he could do once his bodyguard had made a decision. Hana wasn’t too fond of it either, though she hadn’t dared to go against anything the big guy said while he still carried that giant gun and hook of his.

“How long do you think it’ll take before the mech’s done?” She didn’t like asking, but she had to know.

He stared at the ground for a moment, thinking. “Don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“Why are you even building it? Can’t we just use the car?” She pressed on. The question had been burning at the back of her mind since yesterday, and Junkrat didn’t seem like the type who’d mind her forwardness.

“I want to,” he grinned at her. “D’you realise how useful a great thing like that’d be to Hog and I once you’ve run off back home? Could fill it to the brim with explosives and send her off…” He looked dreamily across the horizon, probably envisioning the giant blast a thing like a mech could create.

Hana was just about to ask another question when Junkrat rose to his feet and threw a piece of metal at Roadhog — who’d been lying a couple of meters from them on the other side of the bonfire — before yelling for him to get up. 

“We’re going scrap hunting!” He declared, eagerly swinging himself into the passenger’s seat of their temporary ride.

***

Hana had been subjected to a lot of bad smells over the span of her life, from the streets of Hong Kong to her room after a particularly long stream, but this took the cake. She didn’t even want to know what was causing the rotten, nauseating odor, but something told her the junkyard contained more than just the scrap metal Junkrat had been on about.

The smaller man inhaled sharply, glancing around the area for a good place to start. It didn’t take long for him to dig in, nearly burying himself in the giant piles of trash, emerging only occasionally when he found something he needed.

“Can we help him?” Hana asked Roadhog, ignoring the fear that overcame her from speaking to him.

The big man shook his head, taking a seat on a rusted metallic bench. Hana followed his lead. “So Roadhog, huh? Where’d you get that from?” She figured small talk might help ease her mind, and perhaps even get the Junker to talk to her.

He turned his head towards her, though he made no effort to answer her question. Hana had to fight the temptation to look away from the mask, and tried her hardest to ignore the little spots of blood that covered the left side. 

“Thought it sounded good,” he finally said, looking back towards the horizon.

***

It was lucky the car had a large boot, because Junkrat ended up finding hundreds of pieces of scrap metal and shrapnel, all of which he claimed were essential to the project.

“Gonna get started right away, soon as Roadie finds us a nice piece of desert.” Hana couldn’t tell if he was talking to himself or to her. “Reminds me, can we find that Thai place again?” He looked at the man beside him.

Roadhog grunted, and Hana could only tell that that meant yes by the way Junkrat cheered.

It wasn’t long before they pulled up to a little place, not even big enough to house more than a couple of people. Junkrat grabbed a few stolen coins from his pocket and got out to order, gesturing wildly with his arms as he did so. The poor waitress looked about as confused as Hana would expect her to be, speedily typing the order into an outdated computer. 

Everything around this place was old and broken, and the few things that functioned only did so because of few skilled mechanics. Hana wondered how they even survived like this.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed Roadhog scanning the area, suspiciously eyeing one of the guys at the table behind Junkrat. He was smoking, though he hadn’t touched his food and was nervously fiddling with something in his right hand. Even Hana could tell something was up.

Roadhog got out of the car, hook at the ready, and waited for the nervous man to make a wrong move.

The reward for bringing the two of them in was increasing by the minute, and Hana could only imagine how many people had tried to outsmart the two Junkers for the sake of a few hundred thousand dollars. She figured they were used to it by now — Junkrat had probably spotted the guy the moment he walked in too.

This idea was quickly confirmed, as the man raised a shaky hand and pointed a gun at the thin Junker. “Surrender!” He yelled, voice breaking and eyes tearing up.

Junkrat just giggled, confidently walking towards the guy until the gun was only inches from his chest. “You might wanna rethink this one, mate.” He nodded towards a small bomb in his hand, whose fuse he’d already managed to light.

“Do we now?” A second, much more menacing guy stood up. Hana hadn’t even noticed him until now, but his large physique made her wonder how the hell she’d missed him.

His entrance was followed by two more, a woman and a man, both equally threatening to look at.

Now it was Junkrat’s time to look nervous. “Heh, m-maybe we can work something out?” He threw a quick glance at Roadhog. “Swear, I’m not worth the trouble.”

Hana gathered that was some sort of codeword as she watched the metal hook impale one of the men and pull him right up to the barrel of Roadhog’s gun. She looked away as he pulled the trigger, though the loud _splat_ was hard to ignore.

Everything went very fast after that; bombs went off and screams rang through the air, while a familiar pair of laughs rose above the explosions and gunshots.

Once the smoke cleared, Junkrat grabbed his food off the counter, dropping a few extra coins in front of a very traumatized cashier. “Have a nice day!” He grinned as he got back in the car.

“The service in there, I tell ya.” He looked back at Hana, shaking his head. “D’you like noodles?”

She was about to respond when she noticed the absence of the second Junker. Junkrat seemed to have noticed it too, springing back out of the car and running to his friend’s aid.

Roadhog was collapsed on the pavement in front of the car, a large knife stuck in his leg. One of the men must’ve gotten him. 

Hana got out too, though she knew she wouldn’t be much use. She didn’t even play healer in video games.

"Oi, get up!” Junkrat ordered, trying to maintain a confident tone. “Come on, ya big lug,” the confidence faltered. “Where’re your gas thingies?”

Roadhog grunted. “Home.”

“You’re— Why’s it—? Doesn’t matter. Help me out here?” He looked up at Hana. Help him out? The guy was ten times the size of both of them, no way in hell they were going to get him anywhere further than a couple of centimeters. “Just grab his arm for me!” Junkrat said impatiently, leaving Hana little else to do. 

He was about as heavy as he looked, but Hana had greatly underestimated the younger man’s strength. Somehow, whether by some sort of miracle or a stroke of luck, they got him into the backseat.

As they caught their breath, a terrifying thought entered Hana’s mind. “Do you, uh,” she watched as Junkrat got behind the wheel. “Do you know how to drive this?”

“Do I—? Please!” He threw a concerned look back at Roadhog. “It’s easy! You just gotta…” He started the engine, glancing down at the pedals. Taking a wild guess, he stepped on something and the vehicle jerked forward. “See! Easy!”

A screech sounded from somewhere behind them. Junkrat and Hana turned their heads almost simultaneously to see a group of Raiders approaching from behind.

“Step on it,” Roadhog wheezed.

Junkrat followed this order a little too well, putting the pedal to metal below his peg leg. The car accelerated, crashing through a collection of trash-cans before speeding onto the highway where multiple other vehicles honked and braked to make way. The Raiders followed suit, their motorbikes gaining in on the aged SUV.

“Damn it,” Junkrat threw a glance in the rearview mirror. “Sheila, try to patch him up a bit, yeah? Gonna need him if this goes to shit.”

Hana hesitated. She couldn’t exactly say no, but how exactly she was supposed to ‘patch him up’ was hard to tell. Nevertheless, she unbuckled and crawled into the back seat. There was old shirt on the floor, one big enough to use as a sort of plaster, if she could just pull the knife out of the big man’s leg.

She clasped the handle of the weapon and got ready to pull. She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she messed up, or if a part of the knife remained stuck in his leg or if the bleeding wouldn’t stop or—

“Breathe,” Roadhog told her, adjusting his head.

“Right,” Hana inhaled, “breathe.”

He didn’t even flinch as she pulled the knife from his limb, or as she tightened the bandage around the wound. It was bleeding a lot, but the shirt was keeping the flow somewhat at bay.

Hana crawled up front, where Junkrat was grinning as he sped down the highway. He was surprisingly good at it, the weaving between cars and switching lanes to the least crowded whenever he could. It wasn’t quite enough, though — the Raiders were on their tail and closing in.

Still smiling, Junkrat handed Hana a couple of bombs. “Follow my lead.” He rolled down the window and chucked a few bombs outside, watching and cheering as they sent one of the bikes ten feet into the air.

“No way! I’m not killing anyone!” Hana protested, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head that was convincing her of how much fun it’d be to let loose, just once.

“Suit yourself.” Junkrat threw a few more bombs, grinning to himself as they went off. “Oi, turn it up.”

Hana hadn’t even noticed that the radio was still on from their last ride, but she did as she was told and cranked up the volume. She didn’t recognise the song, but, judging by his enthusiastic off-key singing, Junkrat knew it in and out.

It was quite the sight, when she thought about it; the Junker was grinning like a maniac, throwing home-made bombs out of his window as if they were nothing more than old pieces of gum, laughing as they exploded and singing along to that very old-sounding song like there was no tomorrow.

“I’ve got an idea!” He suddenly exclaimed, after the song had ended and he was starting to run out of explosives. “There’s a bridge coming up on the left.” He gestured ahead. “Throw this at one of the beams, should keep them off our backs for a couple’a hours.” Hana looked down at the thing he was holding. Given her prior knowledge, she gathered it was a bomb, though this one looked a lot more serious than the little ones he’d used so far. It’s wiring was a lot more complicated, and it appeared to be filled to the brim with some sort of liquid she couldn’t make out what was. “Not technically killing anyone,” he reminded her.

He made a sharp, last minute shift into another lane, earning an irritated grunt from Roadhog. “Jamie,” he muttered warningly.

Junkrat just laughed, keeping a close eye on the Raiders behind them.

They were approaching the bridge — a giant, metallic thing held up by four solid beams. “Do I need to activate it?” Hana asked, cautiously inspecting the bomb.

“Right, yeah, the red button and you’ll have ten seconds to throw her,” the Junker explained. Ten seconds wasn’t a lot. And they were going fast. She’d have to time it perfectly — just soon enough to avoid blowing up the car, but not so soon that she’d miss.

 _Okay,_ she thought, _breathe_. With a sharp inhale, she pressed the button and hauled the thing out her window, landing it perfectly beside one of the great beams. Junkrat giggled in anticipation, slowing down so he could focus on the blast. “Boom,” he snickered, right as the weapon went off behind them.

Even Hana had to admit it was glorious. If it wasn’t for the fear of getting killed by one of the many pieces of metal that resulted from the explosion, she might even have enjoyed it.

Whatever the hell Junkrat had whipped up, it was powerful. The bridge went down in a wave of reds and yellows, and by the time the dust settled, they were long gone.


	4. The Plan

“You gotta work with me, mate.” Junkrat gently slid his hand under Roadhog’s head, holding a weird-looking canister to his mask. “Gotta press and twist,” he narrated his actions, as  the can to released a cloud of yellow gas. Roadhog inhaled sharply and watched as his partner undid the ‘bandage’ around his leg.

“Told you I’d remember it,” he mumbled, satisfied with himself.

Hana didn’t want to look, she’d seen enough blood for the day, but somehow she found her eyes diverging to Roadhog’s leg. 

“It’s healed.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the surprise had overcome the connection between her brain and her mouth.

“Real useful stuff, I tell you.” Junkrat threw the shirt into a corner. “Saved my life a million times.”

They had made their way back to Junkrat and Roadhog’s… House? Hana wasn’t quite sure what to call it. It was a small collection of wooden structures, all of which looked about half a second from collapsing upon themselves, but resembled something that might once have been a farm of sorts. They seemed to have camped out in the biggest one of them, at least that was where they kept all the important stuff like those strange gas canisters and what was left of their ‘treasure’. 

But, despite the rotting wood and slumped buildings, they’d made a home out of it: Junkrat had set up a desk against the front wall, which was cluttered with screws and scrap and half-finished bombs, and the two of them had somehow gotten a Pachimari claw-machine in there. Hana noticed there was only one bed, and a fairly small one at that, and figured Junkrat slept in another one of the small huts. 

If all the furniture hadn’t been scraped together from rusted metal and old tires, Hana might have called it domestic. They even had what she gathered was the Junker equivalent of a kitchen, complete with a table, a foldable seat and a make-do tire chair, as well as little living-room on a mezzanine above the bed (not that she had any idea how the hell they got up there).

She couldn’t help but wonder why they’d spent all those nights in the desert when they had a perfectly fine house waiting for them, but she figured there had to be a good reason.

“I’m gonna get working on that mech.” Junkrat stood up, looking back at Roadhog who still seemed a little off. “Big guy probably could do with some rest.”

Hana nodded in agreement. “Do you need any help?”

“I’ll make do,” he grinned, heading outside to pick up some of the scrap they’d gathered from the junkyard.

Roadhog had already started snoring, probably exhausted from the action. Hana wondered how old he and Junkrat were. Surely, neither of them were below 30.

Having a lot around, she noticed two distinct rises in the ground next to the kitchen, and walked closer to find that they were plates. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, she stepped onto one of them. She felt it sink beneath her feet and though something clicked behind the wall, nothing more happened.

“On second thought, could you get one of those big tires we keep out back?” Junkrat re-entered, carrying a pile of scrap. He noticed Hana before she could jump off the platform. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned. “Besides, you need two people of exactly mine and Roadie’s weight. Convenient, huh?” He giggled, dumping the metal next to his desk.

Hana stepped off the plate, eyeing the wall where she’d heard the click. “Sorry.”

“’S alright!” He sat down, bouncing his leg impatiently. “You can make up for it by fetching that tire.”

***

After what felt like eight hours of watching science shows on that only channel Hana could get to work on the TV, she fell asleep on the metal couch. 

Junkrat had been working the whole day, and though he had stopped the restless leg-bouncing, he didn’t seem tired or bored yet. He was in his element, she figured, as her thoughts drifted to the question of where he’d be if it hadn’t been for the destruction of the omnium. He clearly had a knack for whatever you called that weird mix between engineering, chemistry and anarchy, and Hana couldn’t help but feel a swell of pity that he hadn’t gotten a chance to be something more than what he was now.

Even when she woke up a few hours later, the Junker was still tinkering away, humming that song they’d blasted from the car while blowing up the bridge. Roadhog had gone out somewhere, probably to get them dinner or fetch Junkrat something from the garage.

“Can I ask you something?” Hana sat up in the couch, running a hand through her messy hair.

“Shoot.” Junkrat didn’t even look up from his work, though his tone was as enthusiastic as ever.

“What’s your real name?”

His hans stopped working, though he still didn’t turn around. She’d heard it on the news a couple of times, but she’d forgotten.

“I heard Roadhog call you Jamie. Is that it?” Hana didn’t really know why she was asking, but she was in too deep now to let it go.

He finally turned to face her, the usual grin on his face. “My name’s Junkrat, sheila, only one there is!” He said proudly. “What’s in a name anyways?”

If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought the Shakespeare quote was intentional. Of course, it was probably just by chance — it wasn’t like they had an awful lot of books in the outback.

She wanted to press on, though Roadhog swung the barn door open before she could ask any more questions. “Dinner.” He dumped a large, dead snake on the ground in front of him.

“Thanks, mate. I’ll get—“

“I am not eating that,” Hana protested, climbing down from the mezzanine living room. “No way.”

Junkrat laughed, picking the snake up and waving it in front of him. “Why not, sheila? Scared it’ll bite back?”

“Yes— Well, no. But it’s gross!” She stuttered, trying not to look at the dead thing as its body dangled from Junkrat’s hand.

“Tell you what,” he said, getting an old pot from one of the kitchen cupboards. “We got some rice somewhere around here, you can have that instead.”

She nodded. Anything beat snake. “Thanks.”

***

Hana hadn’t needed to make a fuss about the snake thing, as it wasn’t long before Junkrat had managed to set it on fire. Roadhog apathetically grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and fixed the mess routinely, as though he’d done it a thousand times before, and they all ended up sharing the tiny bag of rice Hana had found behind the barn.

“So, this kinda thing happen a lot?” Hana said, mouth full of dry rice.

Junkrat pushed his now-empty bowl away. “What, fires? No way, hardly ever." He placed a proud hand on his chest. "Y’see, I’m a responsible and—“

“Yes.” Hana turned to look at Roadhog, who’d pushed his mask up just enough for him to eat. “‘Least once a day.”

She’d figured as much, but the thought still amused her. It was strange — the more time she spent with them, the more she began to realise that world’s most dangerous criminals were really just a couple of nerds.

“So,” Junkrat suddenly stood up, leaning in over the table. “I’ve got an idea.”

Hana finished her food, following the Junkers lead and pushing her bowl away. “Let’s hear it.”

“It’ll take a hell of a long time for me to get your mech up and running. I mean, I _could_ do it but I figured you’d wanna go home ASAP. Plus, if anyone comes looking for you and find Roadie and I, we might—“

“The point,” Roadhog growled.

“Right, yeah,” he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “Junkertown’s got an excess of those things. Like, a whole fucking lot of ‘em. Seen them meself. So I was thinking, we’ve robbed enough banks to get us right on top of that Most Wanted list, so why not steal one of those shiny new mechs? ‘Course, I’ll fix her up with some explosives and all, don’t want you missing out on any of the good stuff.” He paused to breathe, looking expectantly between the two people in front of him.

“Junkertown?” Hana hated asking, but she felt like it was an important thing to be sure of.

“Our… Home?” Junkrat sounded unsure. “Used to be anyways, sorta got ourselves exiled or whatever. Probably would’ve killed us if they hadn’t been so civil.”

“And you wanna go back and take something of theirs?”

“That’s the plan, yeah.”

Hana couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay..." She figured repeating this ingenious plan might make him realise its very obvious flaw. "So, you want to go back to a town that’ll probably kill you if you ever set foot there again? And then _steal_ from them?”

Oblivious to the irony, the Junker nodded.

“That’s a bad plan,” Roadhog added. “They’ll recognise us.”

Junkrat sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Roadie, mate, keep up. We’ll be wearing disguises.” He gestured towards a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Don’t think that’ll fit me,” Hana said, looking from the large man beside her to his unnaturally tall counterpart.

“Gotcha covered!” Junkrat grabbed a bag he’d stashed under the desk, pulling up a pair of dark green pants and a once-white tank top. “Stole it while you were asleep.”

Hana must’ve been bad at hiding her disgust at the idea of wearing stolen clothes, because Junkrat felt the need to add that he’d “taken it from a real knob,” as though that made it okay.

Nevertheless, the clothes were already stolen and she really wanted that mech. Reluctantly, she reached out to grab the top and pants, much to Junkrat’s enthusiasm. “Right, so here’s the plan,” he started, earning a defeated sigh from his partner.

This’d be fun.


	5. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: in this story, Junkertown’s a bit further from Junkrat and Roadhog’s ‘house’ than in the game :)

****Hana had to admit, it wasn’t a terrible plan.

Junkrat and Roadhog, wearing their disguises, would enter through some back-way Junkrat had found by accident, while Hana distracted the guards at the gate. They’d sneak in and steal a mech, then shoot and bomb their way out once they inevitably set off an alarm.

Sure it wasn’t perfect — in fact it was far from it — but it might’ve been dumb enough to work.

“Now, we’re gonna go over this one more time,” Junkrat raised a finger, his eyes shifting between Hana and Roadhog. “You waltz right on up to the gate and start chatting for dear life, while Hog and I sneak through the back. We get the mech, maybe set up a few explosives and boom!” He gestured wildly. “It’s foolproof.” 

He sounded so pleased with himself, Hana didn’t have to heart to tell him that ‘foolproof’ was probably as far from the truth as you could get.

Nevertheless, she followed him and Roadhog as they made their way around the town and pointed her towards the big entrance at the front. She wished them good luck — they’d need it after all — and walked straight up to the gate.

It was huge and complex in structure, with clockwork-like mechanics Hana figured would be used to open the door. _Breathe_ , she told herself. Raising a shaking hand, she knocked. She held her breath, unsure of whether she needed to knock again. Maybe the guards weren't there, and she'd have to come up with another plan for distracting them - probably one that involved getting into the town. She shuddered at the thought, well aware that she wouldn't last a second in there.

“What!?” Someone finally yelled from above.

Hana looked up, though she couldn’t see anyone in either of the small windows. “Uh, hi,” she started. “I’m looking for a guy called…” She tried to remember what Junkrat had told her to say. “Shit McFuckface?”

There was a brief pause. “And who might that be?”

“He’s my... Uncle.”

Another silence. “We don’t have anyone named Fuckface here!” A different voice shouted, completely oblivious to the humor. “Rack off!”

“Wait!” She shouted, her mind racing for another topic of conversation. Junkrat had told her there were only two proper guards in the whole of Junkertown, and it seemed like she’d secured both of them, so she sure as hell wasn’t going to let either of them go. Her eyes fell on a giant poster taped to the gate. It was an image of a woman, strong and scary-looking, with the words “the Queen” written beneath. “I’d like to talk to your queen!”

A hushed chatter ensued from the two men. “She doesn’t like visitors!” One of them finally shouted.

“She’ll like this one!” Hana replied.

“And why’s that!?”

“Just get her out here! I know her!”

She closed her eyes in anticipation of more questions, but none came. Glaring up, she saw one of the men leaning out of the window, carefully inspecting her. The gears above the gate began turning, and the structure cracked open. “Get up here!” One of the guards instructed.

Despite not being too keen on the idea, the image of herself inside a new and shiny mech overcame whatever fear she felt. Once inside, a small, scrawny man — one of the guards, she assumed — lead her up some stairs to a small room. It looked like an interrogation area, complete with a metal chair with straps and wires.

 _Breathe_ , Hana repeated, this time constricting the word to her thoughts. Whatever happened, Junkrat and Roadhog would get her out. They needed her — she’d promised to pay them after all, and they didn’t seem like to types to refuse that kind of money.

“Better not be lying, Roo.” The guard gestured for her to sit down in the torture chair. “Don’t worry, it’s not turned on.”

Hesitantly, she took a seat. Her eyes scanned the room for the other man, though he was nowhere to be found. That was a problem.

“The Queen doesn’t like disturbances,” he added. "Better be important." As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. Hana was relived to see the second guard enter, a fearful look on his pale face. Unlike his friend, he was muscly and covered in scars, dressed in only old, ripped jeans and carrying a short, blood-stained chain.

“She’s coming.” His words put a lump in Hana’s throat. She couldn’t help but wonder what she’d gotten herself into. Maybe it was all a part of Junkrat’s plan: get her to distract the guards and then leave her there to die.

She pushed that idea away, replacing it with the much more comfortable scenario that, any moment now, an explosion would go off and she’d have a chance to run.

Listening to the guards chat away about some bar-fight that’d gone down last night, she waited. She glanced out the window on her left, unable to see anything more than a short stretch of sandy road and a glowing pink sign that read “take-away.” Had it not been for the fact that she was on a mission, she would’ve loved to see the rest, maybe even catch one of the mech fights Junkrat had been on about.

“What’s taking her so long?” One guard asked the other, impatiently bouncing his leg.

“Maybe she’s in the middle of killing someone.” He laughed weakly in a desperate attempt to mask his fear. Whoever this queen was, she was a big deal.

Before they could say anything else, a knock echoed through the room, this one much more powerful than the guard’s. 

The two men straightened their backs and saluted. “We’re in here, your highness!”

The woman who walked through the door was very different to the one on the poster: she was wearing a spiked leather jacket and biker jeans, and the area around her eyes was smeared with oil. The sides of her head were shaved, leaving only a mohawk of light-blonde hair sticking up in the middle. But despite all that, Hana couldn’t divert her eyes from the long, jagged spear that was attached to her leather belt. 

Usually, people associated the word ‘queen’ with an idea of fragility and snobbiness, but this woman appeared to be the exact opposite.

The Junker threw a disgusted glare at the girl in front of her, before returning her attention to the taller one of the guards. “Who’s she?”

“Dunno, ma’am,” his voice quivered as he spoke. “Says she knows you.”

She leaned over the table, inspecting Hana as though she was a piece of treasure. The sunlight made her eyes look toxic-green as they shifted between the guards and her ‘guest’. 

She was pretty. Or at least she would’ve been if Hana had cared to focus on her features rather than the murderous look in her eyes. She wondered how a woman like her had ended up as royalty to a group of radiation-drunk criminals. She made a mental note to ask Junkrat. If she ever got out of there, that was.

“Never seen her in my life,” the Queen finally stated. “Get her out of my sight.”

“Wait!” Hana felt her heart beat faster, though she maintained a calm exterior. “Junkrat and Roadhog sent me.”

The Queen, who was already halfway out the door, turned her head. “And the plot thickens,” she smirked. “They must be either braver or dumber than they look.”

 _Dumber_ , Hana thought, _it’s definitely dumber_. 

“And why would those two idiots send you here? What do they want?” She asked, her glare burning through Hana’s back. She hadn’t moved from the doorframe, but Hana had caught her interest. Now all she needed to do was keep it.

“They’d like a negotiation.” What was she doing?

The Queen scoffed. “A parley, huh? On what terms?”

“They’d agree to stay civil if you let them back into Junkertown.” It wasn’t a good story, hardly even plausible, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to keep it up much longer.

She laughed coldly, stepping closer to Hana. “Tell those mewling bushrangers that they are _never_ ,” she gritted her teeth. “ _Never_ getting back in here.”

Hana nodded frantically, unable to suppress the fear that arose in her chest. “Will do, ma’am.” She hated the way her voice shook.

The Queen lingered, her eyes scanning Hana again. There was something about her, something that was hard to put a finger on, that was bound to shake even the bravest men. Hana couldn’t help but admire her.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“I, uh,” Hana needed time to make up a lie. “I’m not _not_ from around here.” _Idiot._

The Queen raised an eyebrow, a smile forming on her lips. “Make this easy for the both of us and tell it as it is. Why are you _really_ here? A girl as intelligent as  you can hardly be friends with an halfwit like Junkrat.”

It was true. Hana considered just telling her the whole story, how her plane had crashed and she’d been picked up by the Junkers, and how all she wanted to do was get home. Of course, that probably wouldn’t do much more than get her killed or incarcerated.

“We have a deal.” That wasn’t technically a lie. “I help him with this and he helps me get home.”

“And where’s home?”

“Korea.”

 The Queen scoffed. In a single, violent motion she had Hana in a throat-grip against the wall, gasping desperately for air. “Thanks for lying, darl’.” She tightened her grip. “I haven’t killed anyone in a while.”

A loud _boom_ vibrated the ground, followed by panicked yelling and a few screams. Through the window, Hana forgot about her pain long enough to see a building crumble in a fiery explosion.

The Queen threw one last glance at her victim, before letting go with a sigh and rushing out the door. The two guards were still paralysed with fear, allowing Hana to slip out and make a run for it, clutching her throat and desperately inhaling every inch of air she could.

She remembered the way she’d come and ran on shaky legs down the stairs, carefully not to run into anyone.

Grounding to a halt in front of the door, Hana looked up. The stupid thing was closed.

“Damn it,” she whispered, eyes frantically searching the wall for any type of opening. She was small, she thought, she could squeeze through almost anything. All she had to do was find something.

“Hey! Girl!” She turned around to see a tall, scrawny man wearing little else than a pair of shorts, running towards her. He was carrying some kind of bat, decorated with nails and sharp pieces of scrap. Hana reached for her gun, only to remember she’d left it with her other outfit.

There was nothing she could do, besides stand and watch him approach.

Suddenly, the Junker let out a blood-curdling scream and stopped in his tracks. Hana watched him with confusion, only noticing the source of his pain when her eyes fell on his feet: he’d stepped in some sort of trap, covered in spikes and points, that’d closed around his shins and immobilized him.

Right as she was about to help, a familiar laughed sounded from somewhere behind her. 

“Gotcha!” Junkrat emerged from a small hatch in the wall, which Hana figured was the outlet of the building’s air conditioning. He was covered in glitter and gunpowder, and had blue finger-marks around his throat. He was holding a couple of bombs in his right hand, while his left was carrying the frag launcher.

“Saved your skin there,” he grinned at Hana. “You owe me one.”

“I owe you millions,” she smiled back, forgetting the situation for a moment. “Can we go?”

“Sure thing, sheila. Just gotta take care of this dipstick.” The trapped Junker had been keeping quiet, probably hoping Junkrat would forget about him and leave. The expression on his face when his plan failed was almost worth laughing at, until Hana reminded herself that she was still a civilized person who would never find humor in other people’s misery. Almost never, at least.

“Wait, Junkrat,” Hana said, watching the random Junker’s blood form a little pool on the ground. “Don’t kill him.”

He looked back at her, his launcher still aimed at the guy’s chest. Glancing back at his victim, he opened his mouth to argue, though no words came out. With a dissatisfied expression, he lowered the weapon. “Fine,” he pouted. “Would’ve been a waste of a good bomb anyways.”

He started walking off, gesturing for Hana to follow. She went after him down the empty street, through a little hole in the wall he’d covered up with an old car door, and back outside where Roadhog was waiting.

“Where’s, uh,” Hana glanced up at Junkrat, “where’s the mech?” She looked around, trying to spot the cause of everything that’d transpired in the past hour.

He grinned, opening the door to the car. “I’m not done with her just yet. Gimme a couple’a days and she’ll be right.”

 


	6. Part Two

“Now, we’re gonna go over this one more time,” Junkrat stopped raised a finger, his eyes shifting between Hana and Roadhog. “You waltz right on up to the gate and start chatting for dear life, while Hog and I sneak through the back. We get the mech, maybe set up a few explosives and boom!” He gestured wildly. “It’s foolproof!”

He pointed Hana to the gate, and him and Roadhog watched her disappear behind the corner.

“Showtime,” Junkrat rubbed his hands together in excitement, before pushing the car door to the side and crawling in through the hole.

It was weird being back in Junkertown. After everything him and Hog had been through, every heist and robbery from England to Dorado, being home felt off. He used to know every backdoor and every shortcut in that place, and now he could hardly remember where to find the arena. It didn’t help that his disguise was itchy and hard to see through, or that Roadhog kept reminding him to hurry up.

They were just past the take-away place when someone rounded the corner. Pushing some of the hay away from his eyes, Junkrat recognized the robust structure of the woman who approached. He elbowed Roadhog’s side to get his attention. “It’s the crankin’ queen,” he whispered under his breath.

If they ran, it’d ben too obvious that they weren’t supposed to be there. The best thing to do was act casual. This wasn’t Junkrat’s first rodeo — he knew how to deal with this kind of thing.

As expected, the Queen stopped in front of them, looking them up and down for a few elongated moments. “Haven’t seen you two before,” she stated, tone just as cold as Junkrat recalled.

“‘Course you haven’t, we’re not from around here.” He put on his best American accent. According to Roadhog, he sounded ‘more Russian than American,’ but Junkrat figured they were all the same anyways. “Just arrived in fact, won’t stay long either.”

“What’s with the outfits?” She asked, glancing at Roadhog’s mask with disgust.

“We’re, uh,” he cleared his throat. “We’re—“

“Party planners.” Roadhog interrupted. Junkrat had engineered his mask so that his voice sounded a couple of pitches off, making him a lot less threatening than normal.

After taking a second to process the lie, the smaller Junker smirked behind his disguise. “Right, yeah. Party planners. Y’know like,” Junkrat reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of the gunpowder-glitter mixture he’d used that one time on New Years, throwing into the air like confetti. “Party planners,” he repeated. “Real good ones too, came all the way from France. Arranging a wedding, actually.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow. “A wedding, huh?”

“Y’know, the one between Scrap and that bloke he met at the Junkyard. Great couple, really in love.” He had an idea, one that almost always worked. “Reminds me of me own wedding. Too bad it didn’t work out. Sometimes I still hear ol’ Michael’s voice late at night, telling me he wants me back. Gets me going more than anything, though. Gives me a reason to go on, y’know?” He rambled. If there was one thing Junkrat was good at, it was confusion the hell out of people. His logic was that if he keep talking bullshit, she’d get bored and leave. It’d worked before.

“Right…” The Queen pursed her lips.

“Good thing I got this guy, real good bloke.” He patted Roadhog’s stomach. “Gets a bit hot under the collar at times, if you know what I mean, but we make do. Not as good as Michael, of course, much less tender—“

“Alright!” She finally burst out. “I get it. Be on your way, then.” She sounded frustrated, annoyed. All according to plan.

As soon as she’d rounded the next corner, Junkrat lifted his mask and looked up at his friend, unable to suppress a huge grin. “That was genius, mate. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Roadhog just grunted and started walking towards the arena.

It was smaller than both of them remembered it. The mechs were just as big though, still their usual dirty, worn-down selves. Some of them had been upgraded, with newly added features like saws and smoke-machines, but Junkrat walked past all of them until he found the exact one he was looking for. He had half expected it to have been thrown away, or modified to the point of no return. But there she was, just as rusted and dysfunctional as he remembered her.

“I ever tell you I made this one all by meself?” He nodded towards the ugly machine, raising his chin with pride.

Roadhog picked the mech off the ground, swinging it under his arm as if it was nothing more than a piece of scrap. “Twice.”

Before long, the whole room was rigged with explosives and the two of them were on their way.

They had almost reached the backdoor when someone called out after them. “Oi, what’re you up to!? Could use an extra pair of hands over here!”

Junkrat looked around to see if the stranger was addressing someone else, rolling his eyes as he realized that he wasn’t.

“I’m talking to you!” He pressed on.

“Sorry mate, no can do. Busy planning a party for, uh,” he tried to remember the name they’d used earlier. “Scrap.” 

It was the only name he could remember from his time in Junkertown. He was pretty sure it’d been one of his friends, maybe one of the scavengers he’d fallen in with, but his memory tended to fail him when it came to minor details like that.

The guy looked between the two of them, a confused expression forming on his face. “I’m Scrap.” He finally said.

Fuck. That made things a whole lot more complicated.

Junkrat had never been happier to wear a mask — had it not been for that stupid, itchy thing, the idiot would’ve seen right through him. “Surprise?”

The confusion turned into irritation, then anger. Scrap cocked his head, glaring with contempt at the men in front of him. “You know, you remind me of this guy I used to know.” He took a step closer to Junkrat, his right hand wrapped around a small pocketknife. “A real pain the arse, he was. I tried to kill him once. Or twice, maybe. But somehow he always got away. Don’t know how he did it.”

Scrap wrapped his fingers around Junkrat’s throat and pushed him up against the wall, holding the knife to his stomach. “Looks like he’s got nowhere to run now.”

Frantically fumbling to fish a bomb out of his pocket, Junkrat ignored the burning sensation in his lungs as they were denied the proper amount of air. It’d been a while since someone had threatened him like that, and he’d almost forgotten how to react.

As his fingers finally curled around one of the small spheres, he felt the pressure on his throat come to an end as Scrap was swept away by a powerful hook.

“Don’t touch him,” Roadhog grumbled, before sending a collection of compressed metal through his skull.

A brief silence filled the air between them while Junkrat grimaced at the gory sight and Roadhog wiped off his hook, which had been splattered with fresh blood.

“Thanks, mate,” Junkrat rubbed his throat, ignoring the pain that ran through it as he breathed. “Not gonna lie, thought you were ‘bout to let me go there. Guess you like having me around, huh? Not t’get sentimental or anything,” he giggled, confidently walking the rest of the way towards the exit.

Roadhog had already gone through the hole, and was out on the other side when Junkrat spotted Hana through a small window in one of the towers. She was being held against the wall by someone who looked an awful lot like queen. She was in trouble.

Junkrat’d hoped they’d have enough time to get safely out of there before the timer on the explosives ran out, but then again he’d never been much for safety. “Oi!” He called through wall. “Go on ahead, I gotta make sure what’s-her-face’s still alive.”

He waited until he heard an affirmative grunt from Hog before he started setting up a trap. Odds, he figured, were that Hana would take the chance to run as soon as the bomb went off — which would be any time now — and he had to make sure no one would try to follow her.

He’d placed the trap so that she wouldn’t step in it when coming down the stairs, but so that anyone who saw her sneak out might be unfortunate enough to feel the spikes cut through their legs.

Realizing it’d probably be a good idea to get out sight in case another Scrap came by and started questioning him, Junkrat squeezed himself into one of his old hiding spots inside one of the air vents. Back in the day, he used to go there when he was either running from bullies or when he needed some alone time to gather his thoughts and tinker with something he’d later use to piss someone off.

The gaps in the metal were big enough for him to see the explosion as it went off, only a few seconds after he’d gotten inside. It was just as beautiful as he’d expected: the entire building went up in red and yellow flames, giving off a loud _boom_ and scattering burnt pieces of plastic and shrapnel across the town. Junkrat had to keep himself from bursting into laughter at the sight, and had to settle for grinning at the sudden chaos that unfolded.

It wasn’t long before the queen exited the tower and headed for the source of the explosion, avoiding the trap only by a few metres.

Hana soon followed, looking cautiously around as she stuck her head out from the staircase. She looked up at the gate, only to find it closed. Junkrat was just about to get out of the crammed vent and lead her to the secret exit when some yelled out after her.

“Wait!” Junkrat was pretty sure he recognized him, though he didn’t remember where from. “Girl!”

Hana turned around and began fumbling for something in her belt that didn’t seem to be there. The man got closer, still yelling something about the Queen and the explosion, until his words turned into incoherent screams as the trap closed around his legs.

Seeing the opportunity, Junkrat kicked off the metal and emerged from the vent, stretching his arms and legs and inhaling the fresh air. It smelled of smoke and fire and he couldn’t help but smile at the confused girl in front of him. 

“Gotcha!” He giggled, redirecting his attention to the trapped Junker. “Saved your skin there,” he grinned at Hana. “You owe me one.”

“I owe you millions,” she smiled back, a relived expression replacing the worry on her face. “Now can we get out of here?”

“Sure thing, sheila. Just gotta take care of this dipstick.” Junkrat pointed his frag launcher at the man’s chest, flashing a grin as his finger lingered above the trigger.

“Wait, Junkrat,” Hana interrupted, “don’t kill him.”

He wanted to respond, to argue, but he couldn’t seem to find anything to say. Glancing between the girl and the Junker, he let out a defeated sigh. He couldn’t lose her trust, not now. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Would’ve been a waste anyways.”

Junkrat lowered the frag launcher and patted the guy on the shoulder, before leading Hana around the corner to the hole him and Hog had come in through. Relieved to find his partner still waiting in the car, he let his guard down and looked around. Luckily, they’d stolen a big enough car to keep the mech in the back — Junkrat didn’t want Hana to see it before it was completely done. It had to be a surprise.


	7. Mako

“Roadie?” Hana woke up to the sound of what she figured Junkrat considered whispering. “Oi, Roadie.”

She wondered what he was still doing there. According to the clock on the wall, it will just past 4:00AM and they’d had a very stressful, exhausting day. So why was he still awake?

Despite having lived with him for a little under a week, Hana suddenly realized she’d never seen Junkrat sleep. The couch on the mezzanine above Roadhog’s bed and the kitchen had become her ‘room’ so to speak, but she always fell asleep too early and woke up too late to see where Junkrat went when he needed rest. 

She’d assumed he slept in one of the small huts outside, though now it sounded like his voice was coming from directly below her.

“Mako,” he whispered.

Roadhog grunted, shifting around in the sheets. “What?” He sounded irritated, the way he usually did when he addressed his partner.

“Scoot over. Can’t fit if you’re takin’ up all the space.” There was a series of sounds, indicating the big guy done as told and made space for Junkrat. 

“D’ya think she’s really got money? Enough to get us a new bike maybe?” He asked a few seconds later.

“Yeah.”

Hana smiled to herself. While being a Starcraft gamer had its disadvantages, it brought in enough cash in a month to keep her settled for the rest of her life. Not that she was doing it for anything other than the fun, but it was nice to know she was capable of helping the two people who’d saved her life three times in the past two weeks.

“D’ya think she’s gonna like the mech? Built it meself, y’know.” There was a lot of pride in his voice. Hana agreed with herself that no matter how ugly or dysfunctional the machine was, she’d pretend to love it. It was the least she could do, after all.

“I know.”

There was another silence.

“Roadie?”

“ _What_?”

“You ain’t leaving if we get the money, right?” Junkrat’s tone was strangely different from the one he usually put on, a lot less maniacal. “’S just, I know you’re in this for the cash and I just thought, y’know, if she gets us both set for life y’might not need me and all even though I pro’ly wouldn’t survive a single bloody day without—“

“Shut up,” the big man grunted. Hana heard the sheets shift again, though she couldn’t tell what was happening down there. “I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled.

Junkrat inhaled sharply. “Right, yeah, I know. Just makin’ sure, that’s all.”

The two of them lay in silence for a while, though neither of them sounded like they were asleep. Junkrat’s breathing was uneven and shaky — not surprising considering how cold it was in there. Even though Hana was covered in multiple blankets, she still felt the chill air creep through every hole, to every inch of exposed skin. It was an odd duality, the biting cold at night versus the boiling heat during the day.

If nothing else, living in the outback had given her reassurance of how lucky she was. There were people whose entire lives had transpired here, who had to deal with things like Raiders and heatstroke and injuries on a daily basis. No wonder they’d all turned to crime.

“Can I see your face again?” Junkrat broke the silence. “’S just, you’re a bit creepy to look at with the mask ’nd all.”

“Then don’t look.”

“Your voice isn’t as scary either. ’N your breathing’s not as loud,” he added, ignoring his comment. “Makes it a whole lot easier t’sleep.”

Hana heard a loud sigh, followed by a series of noises she figured were Roadhog taking off the mask, and a thump as he dropped it on the floor.

“Thanks, mate.” Junkrat said, forgetting everything about whispering. A couple of minutes passed, durning which Hana had struggled to keep her eyes open. She knew it was wrong to listen to other people’s conversations, but something about the way the two Junkers interacted was too interesting not to hear. “Y’know you’re my best friend, right?” Junkrat broke the silence again.

“I’m your only friend.” Without the mask, Roadhog’s voice was a lot less menacing. He almost sounded human.

Junkrat didn’t seem to have liked that response, because he didn’t say anything back. 

Another few moments passed before Roadhog added, “but you too.” Again, she heard the sheets move as one of the Junkers shifted in the bed. She wondered why they both slept there, whether it was a security measure or something different. 

Making a mental note to find some way to ask Junkrat, Hana finally allowed herself to drift off.

***

The next morning, Hana woke up before both Junkrat and Roadhog. Noticing the empty stinging in her stomach, she threw a glance towards the bag of rice on the kitchen counter.

As quietly as she could, she descended the rope ladder Junkrat’d put up for her and made her way towards the less-than-exciting breakfast. It was only as she sat down with a spoon and a her bowl of unboiled rice that she remembered the conversation she’d heard last night.

Her eyes fell on the two Junkers, who were laying motionless in their bed. It looked like Roadhog had given Junkrat all the blankets, leaving himself exposed to the cold air. 

Hana couldn’t help but smile as she noticed the giant, unfilled space on the bed where Junkrat was supposed to sleep. Instead, he was curled up against his bodyguard, who’d wrapped a protective arm around him and was breathing heavily without his mask. Hana resisted the temptation to have a look at his face, just to satisfy the curiosity about what he looked like.

It was weird, she thought, seeing two of the worlds most dangerous criminals like that. Whenever they’d been on TV, covered in ashes and blood and grinning at the chaos they’d caused, she’d figured that if she ever met them, she’d try to kill them before they killed her. 

But there she was, eating their food, looking around their home. Hana found herself giggling at the situation, at the sheer weight of everything that’d happened within the past week and a half.

She didn’t realise her laugh would wake the two Junkers up before it was too late. It made sense that they’d be light sleepers, given the constant state of alert they had to be in to avoid Raiders and bounty hunters and whoever else wanted them dead.

“Oi!” Before he’d had time to open his eyes, Junkrat had grabbed a couple of bombs off the floor and gotten ready to throw them.

Hana raised her arms in surrender. “It’s just me, buddy.”

“Right, sorry.” He put the bombs back down and rolled out of bed. “Old habit.” Hana looked on as picked his prosthetic arm from the floor and strapped it on, smiling as the fingers moved.

She just smiled, eating her dry rice while Roadhog put on his mask and Junkrat scavenged through the fridge. “I’m gonna finish your mech today,” he stated, dropping into the foldable chair. He was wearing a very big t-shirt — one of Roadhog’s, Hana figured — and a couple of unmatched socks. There were dark circles under his eyes, or at least darker than usual, making it clear he hadn’t slept much. Not that it stopped him grinning from ear to ear as he shoved a stale slice of bread into his mouth.

“Well I can’t wait to see it,” Hana replied. It was a bit of an understatement. After she’d been recruited by Overwatch, her mech had been like a portable home and going without it for more than a week felt wrong. Even if whatever the hell Junkrat was making wasn’t _her_ mech per se, it was still _a_ mech.

“Just gotta get a couple’a pieces from the junkyard, maybe one o’ those big tires.” He looked thoughtfully at the table. 

Without either of them noticing, it seemed Roadhog had gotten up and left the barn.

Hana was just about to get up to watch some more Science Channel shows when the memory of last night resurfaced. Needing something in her life that wasn’t ‘fascinating marine microorganisms,’ she decided she’d have a bit of fun. It’d been a while since she’d gotten to tease someone anyways. “So,” she leaned over the table, resting her chin on her hands. “Are you and Roadhog… Y’know…” She cocked her eyebrows.

Junkrat furrowed his eyebrows at her. “Are we what?”

“You know… _involved_ ,” she smirked.

“Involved?”

“Yeah, involved. A thing.” He didn’t seem to get it. “Together?”

Hana tried to keep herself from laughing at the range of emotions on Junkrat’s face. “Bloke’s my bodyguard,” he finally said. “We have to be together. Can’t very well protect me if we’re not together.”

She took a deep breath. “I mean,” she smiled patiently. “Are you dating?”

Before he could respond — probably with another confused question — the door opened with a bang, and Roadhog returned with one of the big tires Junkrat had mentioned.

“Thanks, mate!” He smiled. “Anyhoo, I ougt’a get started. Won’t finish if I spend all day talkin.”

***

By the time the sun set, Hana was so sick of leaning about the molecular structure of water she swore to herself she’d never drink the stuff again. Her eyes kept drifting to the door in hopes of seeing Junkrat come in and announcing that he’d finished her mech.

Finding nothing more interesting to do, she let herself drift off.

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep for when a couple of skinny arms shook her awake. It was twilight outside, that perfect time of the day after the heat had gone but before the coldness set in.

Hana opened her eyes to see Junkrat grinning at her, his face a little closer to hers than normal personal limits allowed for. “She’s done!”

***

“Watch your step,” Junkrat warned, as Hana stumbled over the doorframe. “Almost there.” His hands smelled like oil and coal, and felt cold against her closed eyelids. “Ready?” They stopped abruptly.

Hana’s eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the light. She was standing in the middle of a large, windowless room, with a couple of dim oil lamps scattered around the floor. There was messy desk against one of the walls, filled with drawings and half-finished trinkets, and a great variety of tools — some homemade, others stolen — cluttered around the floor.

She didn’t notice any of this, however, once her eyes fell on the giant machine in the middle of the room. She almost teared up the sight of the mech; the neatly shaped, army-green metal wrapped tightly around the engine and other mechanical components; the rusted guns, the exhaust pipes and every little decorative feature he’d added for personalization.

Overcome with enthusiasm, she threw her arms around Junkrat. It took him few seconds to process the action and hug her back. “Glad ya like her.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She let go and bounced around the machine, admiring it from every angle.

“Wanna see her in action?” He patted the machine, impatiently shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

Desperate to know what she could do, Hana nodded and climbed in. Junkrat had improvised the inside, loosely based off what he remembered from her old mech: there was a torn pillow laid out the middle on top of a plate for support. The joysticks were made from rusted metal, though they’d been covered in tape, and he’d added a couple of extra buttons on the control board.

“Alright, alright,” he looked in through the windshield. “Those two shoot, that one there fires missiles, the blue one’s s’posed to eject ya — careful with that, not a hundred percent sure how far up you’re gonna go — and the big red one blows the whole thing up.” He looked satisfies with himself. “Oh and pulling back the stick thingies makes ya go fast.”

Hana went over the instructions in her head. “Sounds — wait, blows up?”

“Sure thing. In case ya get into trouble. I was thinkin’ y’could give her a push, eject and boom!” He gestured an explosion, giggling to himself at the idea. “Might not wanna use that before you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah…” She glared at the red button. “Probably not.”

Junkrat was looking at it too, though his thoughts were likely widely different from Hana’s. “Anyhoo,” he finally said. “Give ‘er a go!”

She navigated the mech outside, impressed by how smoothly it moved. The response time was great too, it took well under second for the machine to do what she told it. It wasn’t as professional as her old one of course, — there was no GPS or mini games for when she was bored — but for a homemade creation it was impressive.

Junkrat had lined up a couple of old water bottles in the sand. Hana carefully aimed for them, taking her time and pulled the trigger. She wasn’t sure what he’d used for bullets but whatever it was, it was a whole lot more powerful than her old mech. The bottles cracked open one after one as she fired through them. Good to know she hadn’t lost her touch.

“Try the missiles!” Junkrat ordered, unable to stay still. “Try ‘em!”

She pressed the B2 buttons on the joystick, sending six small rockets towards the bottles, exploding on impact and sending a cascade of sand into the air.

“That was amazing!” She laughed. Without thinking, she pressed the ejection button, setting off a couple of springs that sent her flying upwards. Had it not been for the knowledge that she’d have to fall back down, she might have enjoyed the birds-eye view of the farm and the cold wind in her face.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stop as gravity caught up with her. Closing her eyes, she waited for a sharp pain to shoot through her back as she collided with the sand. Instead of sand, however, she landed in something soft and warm. She opened her eyes to see Roadhog’s mask, exhaling a breath of relief at being in one piece.

“Thanks, buddy.” She rolled out of his arms and stood up.

The big man turned to Junkrat, who looked just about as relived as Hana felt. “Careful,” he grumbled.

Junkrat scoffed. “Dunno what you’re on about, mate. I had that under control.”


	8. Blur

_“I’ll be right back. Overwatch is my life and all, but I’m still D.Va, that’s not gonna change just because I’ve got a fancy gun. Tell Commander Boringsson it’s just a meet and greet. And remind him I have parents to visit.”_

_Lucio ran a hand through his hair. “You know he’s not gonna like that, Hana.”_

_“I don’t care! Just because he doesn’t have anyone doesn’t mean I should pretend I’m the same. I’m seeing my parents and my fans and he can suck it.” She crossed her arms in protest. She’d been stuck at the Watchpoint for just over a month, with no real missions and no interactions with the outside world. She was young, she was adventurous but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let some old idiot tell her how to live._

_“Alright, alright.” Lucio raised his hands in fake surrender and looked down at his keyboard. “Where are you right now?”_

_She threw a glance at the map on her screen. “Somewhere over Australia.”_

_“Australia!?” His eyes widened. “Hana what the hell are you doing in Australia?”_

_“Over Australia,” she corrected him. “The pilot wanted to take a detour. Something about fuel.”_

_The guy’d gone on a long rant, but frankly she couldn’t remember a word he’d said. She was too distracted by the idea of finally doing another meet and greet, finally talking to her fans and interacting with someone who wasn’t either over thirty or a freaking monkey._

_“Man, I totally forgot to tell you, there was this—“ his sentence was interrupted by a couple of seconds of static. “—But I didn’t break anything so don’t—“ more static. “—So I told her to leave it alone but you know how Fareeha is when—“_

_“Lucio?” She knocked on the screen a couple of times, though it little effect on the quality of the feed._

_“You’re breaki—“_

_The video cut off. Hana groaned in frustration, though she didn’t make any efforts to get it back. She’d call him again when they landed._

_“Ma’am, we’re experiencing some disturbances with the equipment,” the pilot announced through a the speakers._

_Feeling her stomach swell with worry, she glanced out the window. There was nothing but desert for miles around — if they crash-landed here they’d be nothing they could do._

_The plane dropped downwards a couple of meters, leaving Hana’s heart in her throat. “What’s happening!?” She yelled, strapping on her seatbelt._

_“Magnetic interference, ma’am. I don’t—“ Something below the cabin started humming. “Get in the mech,” he suddenly ordered, voice shaking._

_It took everything she had not to break down right there and then, to give in to every fear that was pressing down on her. This was what Overwatch had prepared her for: staying calm in stressful situations. She sure as hell hadn’t spent all that time in the training range to die in a plane crash. “Why?” She finally asked. Had it not been for the more pressing issues, she’d have been proud of how calm she sounded._

_“Just do it!” The pilot commanded._

_He knew what he was doing. This was all just a safety precaution, a just-in-case. Everything’d be fine._

_The plane had a special section for the mech — a dip in the floor that allowed for the whole thing to fit. She got in, the familiar environment relieving some of the tension in her body._

_“Turn on Indestructible,” the pilot continued to instruct._

_She did as she was told, forming a see-through bubble around the machine. It was Overwatch technology, developed by one of the Volskaya scientists back in Russia. Hana tried to focus on what she recalled from one of Zarya’s rants about the science of it: there was some kind of plasma involved or something. Or maybe it was that weird photon-stuff Symmtra liked to tamper with._

_However it worked, it was nothing more than a safety precaution. It didn’t mean anything._

_A loud beeping went off somewhere up front, and before Hana could register what was happening, the plane was on its way down. The speed at which it fell was overwhelming — Hana let go of every calm idea she’d had and went straight into panic mode, feeling her breathing accelerate and her mind jumble into an unorganized mess of what she was sure would be her last thoughts._

_Then everything went black._

***

“Oi, d’ya take my arm again?” Junkrat yelled, probably forgetting that Hana was still asleep. Or was supposed to be, anyway.

“No. Didn’t take it last time either,” Roadhog reminded him. It sounded like he was cooking something — maybe a breakfast that wasn’t rice. Wouldn’t that be great?

“Sure you did!” The smaller Junker pressed on. “I told ya I couldn’t find it and you said you hadn’t seen it and where’d we find it? Your side of the bed!” He tried to cross his arms, though his missing limb made it a bit difficult. 

“You put it there.”

“The hell I—“ he paused. “Oh right. But that was _one_ time! And anyhow, doesn’t solve the problem of where the hell ya put it this time.”

He started rummaging through his desk drawers, making a great deal of noise as he threw screws and scrap over his shoulder and onto the floor with a clatter. “I told ya she’d like it!” He changed the topic, earning another irritated groan from Roadhog. “Didn’t know if she’d ‘preciate the missiles but she’s a woman of excellent taste,” he added.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Hana felt the need to let them know she was awake.

Both of them turned their heads at the sound of her voice. “‘Morning, sheila!” Junkrat forgot everything about the arm, and instead started setting the table with a couple of dirty plates and a jug of what looked suspiciously much like apple juice. “Thought you’d appreciate a proper breakfast. Dunno what you figjams eat normally but I snagged a couple’a eggs from that Thai place with the scrawny manager. Roadie’s idea really, can’t take all the credit.”

Hana crawled down from the little mezzanine that’d become her room and took a seat, unable to keep herself from smiling at the smell. It reminded her of the early mornings at Watchpoint, before the sun had really risen and while everything was quiet and people were too sleepy to start conversation.

“Thank you,” she looked up at Roadhog as he dropped the pan down on the table. Hana had to stifle a laugh as she noticed the stained ‘kiss the cook’ apron he was wearing — a gift from Junkrat she figured.

“So I was thinkin’, once we get to the—“ He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence, shifting his eyes around the room.

“Everything al—“

“Shhh!” He pressed his hand to her mouth. It smelled of ash and dirt, causing her to grimace and move away. “Roadie,” he whispered. “Get your hook ready, yeah?”

The tall man stood up and grabbed his weapon off the wall beside their bed. Hana strained her ears to listen to whatever had gotten them both so nervous, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hear a thing. 

At least not until a giant crash sounded just outside the door, followed by the sound of something rolling across the wooden floor. By the time Hana realized that it was a smoke bomb, it’d already gone off, releasing a cascade of thick fog.

After that, Hana wasn’t quite sure what happened. She heard screams and swears and something that sounded an uncomfortable amount like chewing, and by the time the smoke cleared there were five dead omnics on the floor, above which Junkrat and Roadhog were towering proudly. 

“Bloody pieces of scrap,” Junkrat kicked one of robots, sending its arm flying across the room. “Thinkin’ they can come in here and jus—“

Another bang went off outside. “Seriously?” Junkrat reloaded the launcher and peaked around the corner. Suddenly, he rushed forwards and closed the door, securing a couple of beams to keep it closed. “There’re heaps of ‘em,” he reported. “Ought’a use the thingy.”

“Thingy?” Hana couldn’t take her eyes off the omnic corpses, twitching and sending sparks into the air from ripped wires. “What thingy?”

“We found this…” Junkrat knocked on the wall a couple of times, looking satisfied with the hollow sound it made. “Dunno what it is, actually. Does a hell of a lot’a damage to those rusted trashbins, though.”

He stepped onto one of the plates in the floor, gesturing for Roadhog to stand on the other one. “Mind holding ‘em off?” He asked, as a part of the wall clicked and slid aside.

She tried to catch a glimpse of what was hidden there, but she didn’t get much time before the omnics started crashing against the door. “How the hell do I ‘hold them off’?” She yelled back, though he’d already disappeared into wall. As her eyes scanned the room, they fell on a couple of half-finished bombs Junkrat’d left on his desk. Better than nothing.

Her fingers curled around them the moment the door broke down from the pressure and, without giving it much though, she pulled the pin and chucked one in the general direction of the omnics.

They didn’t look like the ones she’d seen at home, and certainly not like Zenyatta or Bastion or Orisa. They were rusted and broken and looked like one of the old cars she remembered from the Junkyard. If only Efi’d been there, she could’ve fixed them up and maybe even reprogrammed them to be peaceful. Hana wasn’t quite sure what she did or how she did it, but she’d managed to create Orisa from a simple OR-15 unit, so whatever it was, she was probably pretty good at it.

The bomb didn’t do much more than piss them off, so Hana sent another one flying towards them. This one managed to get one of them, though she was relived to see it hadn’t killed him. She wasn’t a murder, after all.

Noticing her resistance, a couple of omnics redirected their attention and managed to corner her. They were tall, probably built for fighting or bounty hunting, and carried long, rusted knives.

Any moment now, Junkrat and Roadhog would do whatever they were doing and she’d be safe. Yeah, any moment.

One of the omnics cocked its head at her in what she swore was a sort of recognition. Something she hadn’t experienced in a while. “Are you—“ Before she could finish her question, the machines powered down. Every single one of them, almost simultaneously, turned themselves off with a whirring noise.

“Gotcha!” Junkrat giggled, exiting the secret chamber in the wall, Roadhog following closely after. “Told’ya it’d work. Said this big ol’ thing’d be useful at some point.” He gestured towards the motionless omnics. “And I was right!”

Hana threw a last glance at the omnic who’d hesitated to kill her. Maybe it’d been a glitch in his programming, maybe it hadn’t meant anything. But she could’ve sworn it knew who she was.

“Told him what’d work?” She looked back at Junkrat. “What do you guys have in there?”

He narrowed his eyes for a second, sliding his tongue over his teeth in thought. “I’ll show ya!” He suddenly exclaimed, nodding towards the wall. Behind the ‘secret’ door was a very small room, not much bigger than an outhouse, which contained a while lot of gold and other riches. But, despite the glittering and shimmering, the first thing that grabbed Hana’s attention was a huge chunk of metal in the back. It had a variety of buttons and switches and dials, all of which looked way too complicated to operate without a manual. It had a sort of antenna on it and the word ‘Oasis’ was written in blue letters across the front.

“That thing shut ‘em off.” Junkrat explained. “Think it uses magnets or somethin’. Not a hundred percent sure how it works but if you press enough buttons it makes a noise and down they go. Could stop the crisis, this thing could. Probably kill off every single omnic alive once I learn how to use it.” He looked satisfied at the idea. “Imagine that. Jamison Fawkes single-handed ridding the world of those—“

“You don’t mean that, do you?” Hana interrupted, trying to ignore the fact that he’d just told her his real name. “You don’t seriously want to kill off every single omnic alive?”

“Alive?” Junkrat scoffed. “Pfft, those things aren’t alive. They’re…” he shifted his eyes from the machine to the robot corpses outside. “Dunno what they are really… But definitely not alive!”

She let out a sigh of disbelief. She knew he was crazy — everyone in the whole damn world knew that by now — but she hadn’t expected him to be some anti-omnic extremist. “Let me guess,” she took a step closer, feeling her face heat up. “You think that being alive just means breathing, don’t you? Sure, they don’t have a heart and all that crap, but you can’t just— they’re not—“

“Listen, sheila, this clearly matters heaps to you so let’s just agree to—“

“No! You can’t just find some random machine and decide the fate of _thousands_ of creatures just because _you_ don’t like them? What did they do to you anyways!?” She wasn’t done yelling but, in the middle of her argument, a thought entered her mind. 

 _“Magnetic interference, ma’am.”_ That was what the pilot had told her right before the crash. And what else in the entire outback would be powerful enough to bring down a whole plane?

“Long story, frankly don’t remember—“

“You crashed my plane.” She whispered, not so much to the Junker as to herself.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“You crashed my plane.”

“Don’t be a dag,” he laughed nervously. “Roadie and I may be good but we’re not—“

“No, you crashed my plane.” It made sense, now that she thought about it. If she’d been living in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly seen the transport vehicle of some rich nobody, she probably would’ve tried to sabotage it too. It was Junker culture, after all, to screw things up without any real purpose.

The whole time she’d spent with them, sleeping in their house and eating their food, she’d been thanking God for whatever miracle had brought her to their location after the crash. They’d saved her life.

Only now, it seemed they’d been the reason it needed saving in the first place.

“Right.” Junkrat ran a hand through his hair. “About that, I can explain—“

“Doubt it.” Hana pushed passed him and headed for the door. She didn’t know where she wanted to go or how she’d make it out there without the Junkers, but she really just wanted to be left alone for a little while. The weirdness of everything was starting to catch up with her: the accident, the mech, the Queen, the car chase, the explosion, all of it was weighing down on her.

The air outside was just as hot as it’d been the day of the crash, as Hana marched across the desert. “나는 설명 할 수있다.” she scoffed to herself. “설명 할 부분은 무엇입니까? 내 빌어 먹을 비행기 추락 했어!”

***

She walked for she didn’t know how long, before her knees gave out and she collapsed in the sand. Every part of her body was aching.

Maybe she’d overreacted, she thought. The sun was burning her skin, even as it started descending below the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before the cold was set in, and the sweat on her forehead would almost turn into ice.

She needed to get back, let go of her little vendetta and suck it up.

Marching with the same determination she’d had on her way out, Hana turned around on her heel and made her way back from where she’d come. Her footsteps were still prominent in the sand, marking the path she’d taken from the farm.

By the time she came back, it was almost dark. Her head was a lot more clear now, though, and her thoughts had reorganized themselves into a slightly more orderly array than they’d been in before.

When the farm came into view, she noticed Junkrat pacing outside. He was wildly waving his arms as he carried on a one-sided conversation with Roadhog, who’d taken a seat in a rocking chair on the porch. It didn’t seem like she’d noticed her yet.

Eventually, Roadhog got up and put a calming hand on Junkrat’s shoulder, causing the shorter man to stop his rambling and look up at his partner. Not wanting to intrude on their moment, Hana sneaked up behind one of the small wooden buildings and listened in. It was a bad habit by now, the inexplicable need she felt to hear everything they were talking about.

“She’ll be back.” Roadhog seemed to have taken off the mask again, or at least lifted it to make his voice less intimidating.

Junkrat was still bouncing his leg impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “Good job scarin’ her off. Might’ve been our only ticket outta here.” The sun had pretty much set, and the cold was staring to bite through Hana’s jacket. She couldn’t pretend not to be there much longer, or she’d freeze to death. “She’ll be back alright,” Junkrat went on. “With a couple’a cops and a whole lotta guns, most likely. Mess it all up for us.”

The bigger man grabbed ahold of both of his partner’s shoulders. “Breathe.”

“Breathe? _Breathe_? You can bet your bloody bacon I’m not gonna _breathe_. Our little friend’s probably on her way to tell the whole damn force about us! We had a plan, remember? And it’s all—it’s all screwed up now!” His tone grew more frustrated with each word. “Telling me to breathe. You can’t even breathe without that stupid mask!”

“Jamison.” Roadhog sighed.

Junkrat looked up at him for a second, his breathing slowing down. “Sorry, mate,” he finally gave in. “She’ll be back.”

Hana smiled. Sure, the two of them had turned out to be the cause of all this, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d saved her life more than once in the past two weeks. She needed them as much as they needed her.

Right as she was about to emerge from her hiding spot, a cold hand classed against her mouth and something pulled her back into the shadows. The last thing she saw before a dark bag was pulled over her eyes, was the faces of the two Junkertown guards she’d gotten to know when Junkrat and Roadhog had stolen her mech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy I didn't proofread this chapter so sorry for any mistakes! Hope you guys liked it :)


	9. Jail

There were two things Hana was certain about once she regained consciousness. 

First of all, her head hurt. There was an uncomfortable throbbing beside her right eye that made it difficult to focus on anything else.

Second, she was pretty sure she was locked up somewhere. The ground beneath her was rough and cold, and felt an awful lot like cement. And the humid air told her she was somewhere underground. It was too dark to see anything, though, other than a faint light at the end of what she assumed to be a hallway.

Attempting to sit up, Hana felt a sharp pain shoot through her skull. She tried to recall what’d happened, though everything was a bit of a blur. The guards had been there. They’d carried her somewhere and a familiar female voice had given the men her approval and then everything had gone black.

And now she were here.

Her thoughts floated back to Junkrat and Roadhog. They’d been waiting for her, thinking she’d gone to the police or just found her own way back home. There was no way they would look for her wherever the hell she was.

A certain feeling of dread came over her, though she didn’t have much time to focus on it before a door at the end of the corridor creaked open. “Oi! Girl!” A voice shouted through the dark. “Kneel for the Queen!” It commanded.

Another figure appeared in the doorway, carrying an oil lamp. As it came closer, Hana recognized the face of the very woman who’d held her against a wall by her throat only days prior. 

“We meet again,” the Queen smirked, putting down the light beside Hana’s cell. “Slightly different conditions this time, huh?”

She didn’t respond. She’d managed to get on her feet, driven by the desire not to kneel for a woman who’d only ever tried to kill to her.

“I’m going to make this easy for you. Get me those two boneheaded ratbags, and you’re outta here for good. We can ever arrange a way to get you to the airport, if you’re looking to leave the country. You don’t strike me as the type who belongs here.”

Hana still didn’t say anything. It was tempting offer, she had to admit.

“You seem reasonable. All I need is from you is to get Junkrat’s guard down. Let him think he’s among friends. Fuckers’ll be easy to grab once they don’t suspect a thing.”

This made Hana break her silence for the sake of letting out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“Am I?”

“They’re the only people in this God-forsaken, Mad Max looking wasteland who’ve helped me out!” She raised her voice. They’d had plenty of chances to kill her, while she’d been stuck in Junkertown or any one of the nights she’d been asleep right above them. It’d have been easy.

The Queen sighed, pulling up a rotting chair and taking a seat. “You do know what they’ve done, right?” She asked. “You’ve seen the news? They’re killers. Killed a whole lot more people than I ever have. Chances are they’ll help you out until they have their money.”

It was good point. They were criminals, that much she knew. Everything else she thought about them was based on what could well have been nothing more than faked amity.

The Queen looked satisfied with herself as she stood back up and grabbed the lamp. “I’ll leave you to think about it, yeah?” She smirked. “See you in the morning.”

***

Hana wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the Queen came back.

As it turned out, she wasn’t locked up in some dungeon, but in a cell with a sink and a little window from which she could see the barren desert once the sun rose. She was quite a bit above ground, maybe twenty meters, and there was someone in the room beside hers. He was singing something, some Junker anthem about fire and death, though his voice sounded hoarse and sore.

He stopped abruptly when the Queen opened the door. Her steps echoed through the metallic hallway as she approached Hana, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of her mouth. “Sleep well?” She threw a glance into the cell. There was no bed, only a thin, half-decayed mattress and a blanket that was  so full of holes it could hardly cover Hana’s small body.

“Just great,” she replied sarcastically.

For some reason, the Queen seemed pleased by her rude response. “Have you made your decision?”

 _No,_ Hana thought, _no I haven’t_. 

Last night, she hadn’t intended to sell anyone out to anyone, but the Queen had been right: Junkrat and Roadhog were criminals. They’d probably killed more people than Hana had met in her entire life.

But then again, they’d helped her a lot more than any other couple of Junkers would have. Had it not been for Roadhog’s decisive ‘The girl comes with us,’ it would’ve only been a matter of time before the Raiders had found her. And no matter how fierce she liked to think she was, she’d be nothing against those five, muscular people the two idiots had taken down the day they’d found her. Even if they were doing all of it for the money, they’d gone a pretty solid job at keeping her alive.

And then there was the fact that she’d never get home without them. Sure, the Queen had promised a ride back to the airport, but she didn’t seem like the most trustworthy person. What was to say she wouldn’t get the information she wanted and just leave her to rot in that cell? At least Junkrat and Roadhog had motivation.

“I don’t know where they are,” she finally lied. “Said they’d leave in the morning, with or without me. We got into a bit of a fight last night.”

“Sorry to hear that.” The Queen crossed her arms and leaned against the wall across from Hana’s cell. “‘Course, I don’t believe you. Those two idiots would never leave treasure behind, Ms. Song.”

Hana couldn’t suppress a concerned expression.

“What, you didn’t think I knew who you were?” She chuckled. “D.Va, in the flesh. Can I have your autograph?”

Okay. Not good.

“Do you know how much you’re worth?” 

She liked to think she was worth about as much as ever other person on the planet, but something told her it was a little bit more. 

“A bit under ten million dollars.” The Queen smirked. Had it not been for the iron bars stopping her, Hana would’ve fought that bitch right there and then. “Be glad I’m the only one here who knows that. Wouldn’t wanna see what’d happen if your little secret slipped.” She shook her head, though that irritating smile remained on her lips.

What Hana wouldn’t give to be back in one of Commander Morrison’s boring lectures on morality or the importance of team work. When she got back — _if_ she got back — she promised herself to listen to every single dull word that came out of that mans mouth as though he was reciting the script from Episode IV.

“So, I’m going to ask you this one last time,” the Queen pushed herself off the wall and took a step forward. “Will you help us get Junkrat and Roadhog?”

Hana stood up and walked straight up to the bars, as close to the woman in front of her as the cell would allow. “No."

The Queen’s face scrunched up with anger, but before she could say anything the door at the end of the corridor shot open and a couple of guards entered, dragging what Hana assumed to be another idiot who’d gotten into a bar fight behind them. “We got ‘im,” one of them announced proudly.

“I mean,” the other one shrugged, “he turned himself in. So I guess we didn’t really ‘get’ him, per se.”

Whatever irritation had been on the Queen’s face disappeared in an instant, replaced by complacency. “Well, well, well,” she tilted her head.

The prisoner was beaten so bloody, Hana almost didn’t recognise his face when he looked up at her. “Junkrat?” She whispered.

“Fancy seein’ you here.” He grinned, causing a bit of blood to run into his mouth. “D’you have anythin’ t’drink in this place? Could really use some milk tea. Usually helps with the—“

“Shut up!” One of guards gave him a knee in the stomach.

“Violence is never the answer,” he went on, as the other man unlocked Hana’s cell. “Had to ask.”

The guard shoved him inside, closing the iron door behind him. “Let’s see how long you last in ‘ere,” he sheered, before turning around on his heel and walking towards the exit.

With a smile, the Queen followed. Right before the door closed behind her, she turned around. “Sorry it was all for nothing, dear.”


	10. Prison Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me to long to update! I promise I'll try to be more frequent :)

“You turned yourself in?” Hana ran a hand through her hair. “Are you stupid?”

Junkrat looked up at her, still smiling, before shrugging a pulling a large variety of crap out of his pocket. There was bit of metal, a screwdriver, some screws and a weird canister containing some odd-looking purple liquid. “”S all a part of the plan,” he explained, crossing his legs. “I find you — job done — and Roadie helps us outta here. Foolproof!”

She almost couldn’t believe he was that dumb. While she admired the effort, something told her a plan like that was bound to go wrong. But then again, she was no expert. “You really think that’ll work?” She asked in disbelief.

Junkrat used the screwdriver to start taking apart the sink, throwing the metal into two separate piles. “Well, y’know what they say,” he grinned, “give a man a fire and he’ll be warm for a day.” He threw the screwdriver over his shoulder and turned his attention to one of the piles. “Set a man on fire and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life!”

It was starting to heat up in the little cell, as the sun climbed over the horizon and cast its wonderfully boiling rays through the small window. 

Hana watched as Junkrat started tinkering with the metal, using the little lighter he’d built into his mechanical hand to heat it up and mold it into shape. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“No?” He held a newly made pipe-bomb up in front of him, looking at it with a smug smile. “Reckon my version’s better.”  

He grabbed the purple liquid and poured it in, before closing the metallic shell shut. Repeating the process a couple of times, he started piling the bombs beside him. It didn’t take more than half an hour for him to finish making ten of them. 

He threw a proud glance at his creations, before looking back at Hana. “Should be enough.”

“Enough for wh— What are we doing?”

“And I thought _I_ had a bad memory.” He rolled his eyes, gathering the explosives in his pockets. “We’re breakin’ you outta this hole.”

She crossed her arms. “And how’d you plan on that? We can’t just explo—“

“We’re gonna explode out way out!” He interrupted, cackling at the thought as he strapped a couple of bombs to the iron bars. “Might wanna get back for this one.” He wired the explosives to a hand-held device with the kind of ease that only comes from repeating a process a hundred times. Hana had to wonder how many of these he’d made in his life.

Before anything more could happen, however, someone burst through the door to the prison. “Thought you’d want somethin’ to eat,” a guard walked in, holding a box in his right hand. Junkrat was quick to hide the trigger behind his back, though there wasn’t much he could do about the mines attached to the iron door. Maybe the guard wouldn’t notice.

In a moment that seemed to last forever, he walked up to the cell, glaring at them with disgust. With a small, satisfied smirk, he shoved a box of rat poison through the bars. “Wouldn’t want you to starve.”

Junkrat looked down at the box, then back up the guard. Hana had keep herself from laughing — it was mean, sure, but kind of funny too. 

The guard’s smirk transformed into a frown when Junkrat started giggling. “Wish I had your sense of humor, mate,” he said, revealing the trigger in his hand. The small man looked at it for a second, tilting his head in confusion. He didn’t look like he’d spent much time in the ‘field’, and he probably wouldn't recognize an explosive if it was taped to his face. " _But_ ," Junkrat giggled, "I've been told I'm not very funny." That seemed to make the guard understand, and his face turned pale and his legs stiff.

Junkrat gave him a little wave. “Fire in the hole,” he sang, before pushing down on the trigger.

Hana was happy he’d told her to get back, because even from her position in the other end of the room, she felt the impact of the blast. Junkrat reveled in it, inhaling a deep breath of smoky air. It probably felt more natural to him than oxygen.

The guard had been knocked out by the door, which’d been blown off its hinges along with a bit of the wall, and was now lying motionless on the floor, a bruise already forming on his forehead.

Before getting out of there, the Junker grabbed the rat poison box and poured its contents into his pocket. 

Hana glared at him, half confused and half not-at-all-surprised. “Might be useful,” he explained. Someone was yelling just outside the door, going on about the loud explosion that’d just shaken the walls. They needed to hurry up.

“Ought’a go,” Junkrat added, “don’t got enough bombs to give all these drongos a time.”

Hana nodded in agreement, heading for the door. 

They’d only just opened it when a group of people, probably guards as well, rounded the corner. They were carrying a variety of odd-looking homemade guns, and dressed in the same basic outfit of ripped shorts and large tank-tops. 

Junkrat just giggled to himself, pulling up few bombs and chucking them at the crowd. They exploded on impact, the _boom_ causing a variety of differently-pitched screams and shouts to erupt from the men. A couple of them seemed unscathed, though they took their chance to get away from there before any more bombs were sent their way. 

“This way.” Junkrat grabbed Hana’s wrist and pulled her with her down the street, towards the little back-way him and Hog had used a couple of days prior. Hana started to feel beads of sweat trickle down her forehead as they ran. She figured the Junkers had somehow developed a mutation that made them immune to that unbearable heat, or else there was no way they could possibly still be alive.

Her and Junkrat hadn’t gotten too far when another couple of what Hana assumed was the Junkertown equivalent of police came running towards them.  “Oi!” One of them yelled, picking up the pace as she noticed the escapees.

Junkrat threw a bomb at them, cackling as it exploded. “Whoops!” He laughed at panic on their faces as one of them was pierced through the leg with a chunk of metal. 

The two fugitives ran through the smoke, ignoring the shouting behind them.

Hana followed the Junker down the street, rounding corners and taking shortcuts. Apparently, the prison had been on the opposite side of town, and there was no other way out than the little hole from a few days before.

Right as they reached a familiar stretch of road — the place where that random Junker had stepped in the trap — the three guards from earlier cut them off. The one who’d been hit was halting, but she didn’t seem any less prepared to fuck them over.

“For fuck’s sake, Rat,” another one of them loaded his DIY gun. “I told ya I’d help ya escape that _one_ time if you promised — _promised_ — to never come back ‘ere. Gotta say, I’m a bit hurt, thought we were friends.”

Junkrat looked a bit confused, but he still reached down to pull out a couple of explosives. His expression started showing hints of panic as his hand fumbled around in his pocket. “Huh,” he gave up looking. “Outta bombs.”

Hana felt her heart speed up. Those stupid things were their only way out. “What do we do then?” She looked at the three guards. Maybe she could take them, if they stood completely still and let her kick them in the crotch first.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Never tried this before.”

The guard who’d addressed Junkrat pointed his weapon at them. “The Queen’s gonna kill ya,” he shook his head. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Oooh!” Junkrat suddenly reached into his other pocket and, in one swift motion, hauled a handful of the rat poison from earlier at the three men. Whatever was in it, it seemed to burn their eyes just long enough for Hana and Junkrat to slip past and head for the gate.

Hana’s legs were started to hurt, and her knees were weakening with each step. Just a little longer, they were so close.

They were meters away from freedom when a very big, very muscular man stepped in front of them.

With a defeated sigh, Hana glared up at their next obstacle; he looked a lot more powerful than the other Junkers, and was probably a lot more deadly too. He wore a mask a little like Roadhog’s, only this one didn’t cover his emotionless, dark green eyes. He was carrying a big axe connected to a heavy chain which rattled loudly when he moved, and he didn’t exactly have the appearance of man who’d be affected too much by a little rat poison.

“G’day!” Junkrat laughed nervously, his eyes fixed on the man’s weapon. “Say, you move just a couple’a inches to the left and I’ll, uh, I’ll get ya—” he was interrupted when the guard wrapped a big hand around his throat and lifted him a couple of feet into the air.

“Or not,” he said hoarsely.

Hana looked around for something heavy she could use to knock the man out, but the majority of the crap around her was too insignificant to do any real damage. There had to be something, a metal rod or some pointy piece of shrapnel.

She inhaled sharply as she noticed an old, rusted knife a few meters away. Junkrat seemed to have noticed it too, because he started making a fuss in order to distract the big guy. “Y’know,” he kicked after his stomach, missing only by a little bit. “I like ‘em strong.”

“Shut up.” He tightened his grip, causing Junkrat to let out a pain-filled grunt.

Hana dashed for the knife, her sudden movement catching the man by surprise. Before he had time to defend himself, she’d inserted the weapon in his side. Her heart was beating so fast, she swore it was seconds from beating out of her chest, and her entire body seemed to shake despite the heat.

Without letting go of Junkrat, he pulled the blade back out and let it drop onto the ground. Blood started gushing from the wound, though neither the pain nor the mess seemed to bother him much.

In the middle of reaching for his gun, the giant man was yanked backwards by a rusty hook. The impact caused him to drop Junkrat, who desperately gasped for air as soon as it became available.

Hana almost cried with relief at seeing Roadhog knock the stranger out with a hefty uppercut to the chin. It was a bit scary, she had to admit, seeing the same man whose house she’d been sleeping in for the past couple of days nearly kill a guy with a single punch.

“Whoooo!” Junkrat cheered, voice hoarse, before launching himself into Hog’s arms. “Right on time!”

Roadhog lifted the smaller Junker by his harness, popping him back down on the ground. “Okay?” He asked, as he turned around to head through the hole in the wall.

“We’re on top’a the world, mate! Been a while since I got t’a blow someone up! Y’know, we ought’a do this more often, for keepin’ up spirits an’ all,” Junkrat rambled. His fingers were still twitching with the reflex of setting off the bombs, and one of the wounds on his face had re-opened and was trickling blood onto his shoulder.

Hana followed Roadhog both out of the back-way, feeling tempted to collapse as soon as she was out of Junkertown.

Junkrat came shortly after, though his still-going chatter was interrupted by a female guard’s yelling. “Crickey,” he looked behind him for a moment, before directing his attention to Hog. “D’ya bring it?”

The big Junker gave a single nod, before reaching for a large tyre he’d left just outside the wall and handing it to his partner. Junkrat bounced impatiently until the thing was in his hands, at which point he put it down on the ground in front of him and grabbed onto a thin chain. With an excited giggle, he yanked it, sending the tyre spinning towards the guards.

There wasn’t much they could do to get away before it exploded with a loud _boom_. 

“You made that?” Hana asked, as she got into the car.

Nodding proudly, Junkrat jumped in next to her. “Got about twenty-five back home,” he gestured towards the farm. “Call ‘em RIP-tires. Y’know, like rest in pieces.” He looked proud, and Hana was pretty sure he’d spent more time on that name than what was considered reasonable.

“I think it’s rest in peace,” she informed him.

“Not with those things, it isn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! If you have any questions or comments, feel free to write me on tumblr @totall-mayhem :)


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